Magic and Mayhem
by casualCranium
Summary: Magic! Dragons! Tournaments! Adventure abounds in this fantasy AU. Judy becomes a warrior, against the wishes of her parents, and sets out to make the kingdom of Zootopia a better place. Along the way, she meets Nick, a mystical wizard with a quick tongue and a mysterious past. Together, they'll find danger aplenty, and a friendship they never dreamed of.
1. Chapter 1

**AN - Unlike my last story, I plan to make this an extended narrative, with a plot and everything! It's almost like I'm a real writer now... *sniffs* Leave a review if you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. And if a few lines sound like they come from the movie, well, I have a good memory for that sort of thing. **

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"She can't become a warrior, Bonnie. She's a bunny!"

"I'm aware our daughter is a bunny, Stu. I don't think that's going to be confusing for anyone. What, do you think mammals will look at her and say 'Is that a bear, or a horse? You know, I just can't tell —'"

"Well, of course they'll know she's a bunny, dear. I wasn't trying to argue against that. I was just saying —"

"Did you think it was a point that needed clarification? I thought it was pretty obvious, honey."

"Why is this such a big deal? All I did was make one remark and you have to turn it into this big thing —"

"What thing? I thought we were just having a friendly discussion about our daughter's plans for the future, like parents do. Is that so odd?"

"Look, all I'm saying is that she's small and cuddly. Nobody's going to take her seriously! And if they do, that's even worse. If she gets in a real fight, we both know what's going to happen."

"..."

"Bonnie?"

"..."

"Bonnie, dear? Bonnie, are you listening? What's the matter?"

"... Oh, no."

**five minutes earlier:**

"Hey!"

Grinning, the red fox turned to look at the small bunny facing him behind the vendors' stalls, ears quivering with fury. "That doesn't belong to you," she said, pointing to the small pouch on his belt that jingled audibly. "I saw you take it from Laney. Give it back!" Behind him, two small sheep cowered on the ground with fear.

"Ah don't think so," the other mammal replied in a broad accent. "Ah think ah'll keep it. What're you gonna do about that, huh? Wiggle your cute little tail at me?"

"First of all, _don't _call me cute. And second, _Gideon Gray_, I could just take it from you," the rabbit replied, eyes narrow.

"Yeah, raht!" Gideon laughed. "Ya know, us predators used ta _eat _prey! So maybe you better just skedaddle, before ah give in ta mah primal instincts," he continued, bending low over her. His teeth glinted, hot breath wafting from his open jaws.

Her face settling in hard lines, his opponent clenched her fist, before sending a punch straight into his nose. Taken by surprise, Gideon stumbled back, only just saved from an ungraceful fall by his weasel friend. Fur rising along his shoulders, he growled at her. The small rabbit felt a little jolt of fear run through her. In two steps, the fox crossed the distance between them, pushing her roughly down into the dirt with a swipe across her cheek. She gritted her teeth to keep from making a sound.

"Ya just don't know when to give up, do ya?" he spat. "Well, ya can keep that as a reminder. So whenever ya start thinkin'a becomin a warrior, or ya think that yer better than us preds, just remember that ya'll never be anythin more than a stoopid, carrot farmin' dumb bunny!"

With that parting remark, he spat in the dirt and turned, barking to his crony, "C'mon! We got better things to do than stick'round here all day with a bunch'a lousy prey." Turning behind a stall, they were out of sight.

As soon as they were gone, the two sheep rushed to their fallen friend, helping her up. "Judy, are you okay?" one asked anxiously. "Oooh, I'll tell my folks about this. That Gideon Gray's been acting a lout for far too long."

"Never mind him, how'bout you, Judy?" said the other. "He scratched you right down your cheek! That might scar."

"It was worth it," Judy said with a small smile. "Here." She reached out and opened her paw to reveal the pouch. "Pulled it off his belt when he was distracted. I know it was all your allowance for today. And I don't care about the scar," she went on wearily. "What he said hurt more."

The two sheep looked at each other, then one spoke. "Well, everyone knows you want to learn how to fight, and become a warrior, and that's great'n all, but... there's never _been_ a bunny who did that, not in any of the stories."

"It doesn't matter, though, Judy," said the other hastily. "Even if you can't be a warrior, you don't have to be a farmer your whole life..." She trailed off, suddenly unsure of herself. The bunny was looking at her as though she'd said something wrong.

"Can't?" she repeated, eyes suddenly sparking with fire. "_Nobody _tells me what I can and can't do, not even my friends. Or my family. I don't care what Gideon or anybody else says, I can be a warrior if I want to. And he was right about one thing," she added, bristling with determination. "I _don't_ know when to give up." With that, she turned and walked away, leaving the stunned sheep to stare at each other, speechless.

As she marched out of the narrow avenue between the backs of the stalls, she emerged onto a broad thoroughfare, lined with stalls of every kind. Vendors hawked their wares to passersby, loudly calling out descriptions of their products and promising the best value anywhere. Customers haggled over prices, vegetables on skewers were roasted over cookfires, and forges belched sparks into the blue sky. The air was filled with the ringing of hammers, the clink of coins, and the scent of smoke.

It was market day.

Head turning to follow all the bustle and noise, Judy Hopps didn't notice her parents staring at her from across the way. The market only came a few times a year, and she wanted to make the most of it. Unfortunately, that meant she didn't have time to escape when they made their way in her direction, Bonnie bearing down on her with worry etched into every line of her face.

"Have you been fighting? What happened to you?" she gasped, reaching for Judy's cheek to inspect the marks. "Was it that Gideon Gray? I've half a mind to go find his mother right now and let her know what I —"

"It's just a scratch, Mom," Judy muttered. "I'm fine, really."

Maternal concern assuaged, exasperation began to take a more prominent role. "Well, what were you thinking, getting in fights on market day? I thought your father and I raised you better than that. This better not be some ploy for attention, little missy, and you're in enough trouble as it is with this idea of becoming a knight in armor."

"Mo-ooom!" Judy cried, anger rising inside her. "First of all, I didn't start the fight, he did, when he stole Lacey's allowance. Second, _no_, this isn't some ploy for attention. How could you even think that? And third, I'm not becoming a knight in armor, I'm becoming a warrior, an _adventurer_. Armor is for rhinos and elephants. I'm going to have a cool sword, and a staff, and a lasso for tripping people... Do you think I should have a lasso or a whip? I can grab stuff with a lasso, but maybe a whip would be easier to use, and I don't know how to tie a lasso. I've heard of this panther from the Far East who throws metal stars, but how do you throw those without cutting yourself? Or what about —"

"Jude," her father said, cutting off the fountain of words. "It's great that you want to be an adventurer, but face the facts. You're a bunny. There's never been a bunny hero, ever."

"Then I'll just have to be the first," his daughter said cheerfully. "Besides, you already said that ten minutes ago. I'm going to learn how to fight, and then I'll go out into the world and do great things, like you always wanted, right?" Head tilted, she stared at her parents innocently.

"You can do great things here, sweetie," Bonnie said. "We always need more help on the farm. You can learn nature magic, like Alexandra, or your cousin Lenny. Look at what they're doing! Why, just last month Lexie saved a whole cornfield from blight. You could do that too, and you know mages are just as important as anyone."

"But I don't _want_ to be a mage," Judy countered. "I want to learn how to fight, so I can help people everywhere, not just on this farm. You said there weren't any bunny heroes? Well, this is why. Because nobody thinks us bunnies are good enough, not even you! Who's going to stick up for us if we don't stick up for ourselves?" With a twist, she slipped free of Bonnie's hold and darted off into the market without looking back.

"Oh, Stu," Bonnie whispered softly, watching her vanish into the crowd. "What are we going to do with her?"

The answer to that, as Bonnie and Stu found out, was absolutely nothing. Judy wouldn't listen when they told her she was too small and defenseless to go out into the world on her own. She pointed out that she could hear danger coming before it would know she was there, and that all adventurers were honor-bound to look out for each other. They told her that in a real fight, her opponent would always be bigger than her, and she could be knocked out or killed with a single blow. In return, she said she just wouldn't let them hit her. Besides, she could run rings around anyone in her weight class or beyond, and the bigger her opponents the slower they would be. They asked what she would do if attacked with magic. She responded that mages and warriors never fought each other, since neither could defend against the other's attacks. To every question, she had an answer, and to every point, she had a counterpoint.

At last they decided it was just a phase that she'd grow out of as time passed. And after months of arguments and tearful fights, she finally dropped it. She stopped mentioning it, and when pressed, simply said that she'd realized it wasn't possible, although she didn't say what she thought she'd be doing instead. Bonnie and Stu gratefully accepted this sudden reversal, and thought no more of it.

As a matter of fact, she hadn't given up her dream at all. Realizing that her parents would never support her, she had simply acted like she didn't care anymore so that they would stop worrying and trying to stop her. She could get more done on her own.

She created her own exercise regimen, rising before the break of dawn to run miles and do push-ups out in the fields, where she wouldn't be noticed or disturbed. She pushed herself as hard as she dared, just before her family would start to notice, even though it made her tired and achey throughout the day. When she turned in after all her work was done, she flopped onto her bed and fell asleep instantly. She was too tired even to dream. It felt like just seconds later when she forced herself awake to,start the routine al over again.

She went on like this for a year and a half, working herself to the bone every day. She only allowed herself rest on holidays, or market days. Although it was grueling, it had an effect. Her previously soft body became hard with muscle, and her endurance more than tripled. As she grew, her frame stayed lean, but never thin. At the end, she could run a five-minute mile without breaking a sweat, and jump over two of her siblings standing on top of each other.

This, however, was only the beginning. Although she was fit, she had yet to receive any real instruction in combat, and she couldn't ask anyone she knew to teach her. The most she got was a few boxing lessons from one of the old-timers, given to enthusiastic kits, but she didn't dare ask for anything more advanced. She wasn't sure what she would do. If no one would teach her anything, her dream of becoming a hero was over before it had even begun.

Her chance came during the spring fair, when a grizzled old wolf arrived in the village from parts unknown. He was criss-crossed with scars, he had a chunk missing from one ear, and he made it apparent he intended to stay. Although his appearance made plenty of folks uneasy, Judy saw him as her chance to learn.

It took her a few days to work up the courage to approach him. Late in the evening, however, after all of her chores were done, a very nervous bunny stepped up to his hut on the outskirts of town and knocked twice. The boards were rough - he'd built the place hmself and refused any offers of help, although few had been made.

The door was yanked open almost immediately after she drew back her paw, startling her. The old wolf stood in the doorway, backlit by a small fire. "I scented you coming a hundred yards out," he said without preamble. "What do you want?"

"Well, I — I want you to teach me."

"Teach you what?" he barked roughly, eyes narrowing. "I have nothing to teach anyone. Go away, before I bite your ears off." Turning away, he slammed the door in her face.

Judy's nervousnes was quickly replaced by anger. "I want you to teach me how to fight!" she shouted through the door. "Nobody else will. They all think I'm not good enough, but —"

The door was opened just as swiftly as it had been closed, moments before. "I would ask you to repeat yourself, but I heard you the first time. What I'm wondering is, why would a little bunny want to go out into the great big world, risking life and limb in the pursuit of some foolish ideal? Do you want to end up like me, spending your last days as a pathetic husk of what you once were, in a shack next to some cornfields?" He gestured expressively.

Hoping to lighten the mood, Judy ventured, "You don't look very pathetic to me, sir."

The wolf laughed once, a smile creasing his face, before it was gone the next instant. In its place was a calculating look, as his gaze traveled up and down her body, evaluating her potential. Judy stood still and hoped.

"Well," he said after a few seconds, "you're not as limp as a dead fish, like a lot of these rabbits. But we've a long way to go before you can call yourself a fighter."

Trying futilely to quell the hope rising inside her cheat, Judy said, "So you'll teach me?"

"I never said that," responded the older mammal. "You look like you've spent some time lifting bags of flour. But that doesn't mean anything. I've seen plenty of rhinos and elephants brought down by mammals barely bigger than you are, no matter how many muscles they had. Try to land a hit on me," he said, stepping out onto the grass, "and we'll see what I have to work with."

He assumed a relaxed posture, arms hanging loosely at his sides. His eyes never left her face.

Swallowing down her nerves, Judy ran at him and leaped, aiming a kick at his chest. Though she was moving fast, she felt her paw grabbed and twisted as the wolf ducked, sending her sailing over his head. She rolled, coming up on the other side. When she raised her head, he was facing her, looking as if he had never moved at all.

Now wary, she approached him, circling around to put the sun at her back so it shone into his eyes. He swiveled smoothly, keeping her in front of him. He gazed at her coolly. She waited.

He blinked.

Digging her hindpaws into the ground, she charged, feinting with her right paw before sending her left in a hard jab at his face. Instead of connecting, it was deflected by his elbow while he stepped aside, letting her momentum carry her past him.

"I saw that feint coming a mile away," he said.

She growled.

Renewing her offense, she sent a flurry of kicks and punches at his legs, chest, and face, anger overwhelming her desire not to hurt him. It didn't matter. Every one of her attacks was dodged, deflected, or countered. Try as she might, she simply couldn't hit him. The wolf weaved back and forth like a wisp of smoke with an agility that belied his aged appearance. Perhaps what infuriated her most, however, was the fact that he didn't even seem to be trying.

At last he changed his pattern. Moving so fast her eyes couldn't follow, he seemed to somehow _appear _in front of her, sending her flying backwards with a strike to her chest. His punch was like a hammer blow.

Folding his arms, he looked her over. Gritting her teeth, Judy picked herself up and braced for whatever he might say.

"For a presumably untrained farm bunny," he said, expression unreadable, "that wasn't half bad."

Judy felt a little bubble of hope start to grow. Quickly she forced her attention back to what he was saying.

"You ever received any formal instruction?"

"A few boxing lessons," Judy replied, trying to keep her tone even. So much rode on his next words.

"Hm," was all she got.

With a sigh, the wolf rocked back and raised his eyes to the sky. "I must be getting soft in my old age," he said to no one in particular. Shifting his gaze down again to meet hers, he spoke. "Very well. It's better than sitting around here with nothing to do, I suppose."

Judy wanted to jump up and down for joy, but restrained herself. "Thank you, sir!" she got out. "I promise I won't disappoint you. Um... what should I call you, if you don't mind?" She could be polite and all, but just calling him _sir _would get old real fast.

With a quirk of his brow, her new teacher replied, "You can call me Ingvar. That's a name I haven't used in a while, and it'll be good to air it out again." He looked up, and only then did Judy realize that the sun was setting. "You'd better go home now, little bunny, before your family misses you."

"Um. My name is Judy."

He just looked at her.

Shaking her head, Judy set off for home as the aging wolf retreated into his hut, neither having any idea what the coming years would bring. Ingvar, or so he had called himself, thought that Judy would probably wash out within a few weeks. Judy, for her part, imagined several months of intense workouts and one-on-one sparring, before she was ready to face the world.

Both of them were dead wrong.

Although excited for her training, Judy wasn't sure when she would have time in the day, when she was already waking up early to exercise. Even if she gave that time over to training, it was still little more than an hour every day — it would take her forever to learn anything.

Ingvar, however, came up with a solution. After talking it over with her, he approached her parents and told them that he would be teaching Judy his trade — namely, that of a merchant, as well as other helpful skills like leatherworking and weaving. Under his tutelage, she would learn to do sums, haggle over price, and gain an eye for value. She could buy and sell goods at a profit and make a name for herself. Best of all was that she could use his business connections to get a head start in the commercial world. Instead of starting out alone and friendless, he would use his extensive network of friends and allies to give her a leg up.

"Otherwise, she'd be a bunny in a pit of vipers," Ingvar told the anxious Hopps, not unkindly. "Don't worry, though. She's got a keen head on her shoulders, and I'll tell everyone I know to watch out for her. Call in a few favors if need be." Despite these comforting words, the two rabbits looked a little uneasy. Possibly because of the large wolf that towered over them, even sitting.

They were assembled around a small table, set with bread and fruit, where the Hopps usually hosted neighborly events or casual business meetings. The current mood, however, was far from the usual.

"Mr. Ingvar," Bonnie began, "We really appreciate this, it's too kind of you to offer. But I don't think we'd feel comfortable sending our little kit out there alone. Oh, I know you'd look out for her, and it does me a great deal of good to know that you'd be around, but... she's only a little bunny in a great big world, and I'd never forgive myself if anything happened to her."

"Mr. and Mrs. Hopps," Ingvar began seriously, "I won't lie to you. There's danger to be found out there, and while we both know Miss Hopps would never go looking for any, it might find her just the same. That's why I'll be giving her personal defense classes as well, so that she knows how to protect herself and what to in a dangerous situation."

Seeing the looks on their faces, he went on. "It's true that merchant caravans hire guards, and some traders keep permanent bodyguards. But mercenaries care only for coin, and if someone else offers them a better price, they can turn on you in an instant. I've seen it happen before. And carrying a staff or a sword will deter only the petty thieves. Carrying something you know how to _use_, on the other hand, can save your life. Even if it's only a dagger, a little instruction in combat could make all the difference, and I know you wouldn't want her to be reliant on others her whole life, yes?"

"Mr. Ingvar —" Stu started —

"Even if she never leaves the farm, and I can certainly think of worse places to stay," the wolf continued, "wouldn't you agree that these are useful skills to have? As the child of a wealthy and prestigious family, she stands to inherit a great deal someday. Or do you prefer to keep property in the direct male line?" he inquired politely.

Stu grasped for words, before Bonnie cut him off. "Each child, regardless of gender, has a claim to the estate. And as one of our oldest, she does stand to inherit a sizeable portion."

"Then at some point, she must learn the ways of business," Ingvar said amiably. "Otherwise, she will find herself surrounded by swindlers and crooks looking to cheat her out of her rightful fortune. I gather that you have not yet hired a tutor?" He took their silence as confirmation. "Then consider my services as acquired, sir and madam. I won't hear a word about it," he said, waving his paws to cut off their flurry of denials. "And as for pay, I want nothing beyond a decent meal now and again. I'm old now, and I have no use for money. My only function is to pass on my knowledge to the young. Of course, she won't be able to help as much around the estate, but then there are plenty of willing paws for that sort of thing, and hers are better devoted to learning the intricacies of leadership, which is to say, business. If you decide she can make it on her own out in the world, I'll do everything in my power to assist her, and if not, she'll be learning valuable skills no matter what she decides to do with her life. I think we'll begin our lessons tomorrow, if it please you, and continue until she has learned all that there is to learn on the subject. I'll show myself out — don't trouble yourselves on my account — it was a pleasure meeting you, and I look forward to teaching the young Miss Hopps. Good day!"

After having successfully battered the two Hopps into verbal submission, and rolled over any attempts at refusal, he slipped out and left them there, wondering what they had just agreed to.

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**And that's it for this first chapter! Leave a review, let me know what you think. Should I make the chapters longer or shorter? Keep in mind that longer chapters will take longer to write, and I'm not sure if I can adhere to a strict schedule until I get a sense of how much I'm able to write and how long that'll take me. I'm still starting out, so any feedback is appreciated. There will be more interesting stuff, I promise, but I wanted to establish the feel of the story and ground it in some solid backstory before we move on to the actiony bits. Tournaments! Magic! Maybe even a certain red-furred fox... Leave a like if you enjoyed it! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN - I'm back! Sorry for the wait, but here you go. The story will be moving a little slow for now — I don't want to rush into the action and skip all the buildup, plus this way there's more content. Anyways, tell me what you think.**

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With her parents no longer a problem, and with only minimal work to do around the farm, Judy was able to devote almost all of her time to training. She envisioned long hours of beating up straw dummies, practicing swordplay, and refining her paw-to-paw combat skills with more advanced techniques. What she got, however, was something very different.

"I have to do _bookwork?_" she protested, looking up from the stack of tomes Ingvar had just dropped in front of her.

"What's the problem?" the old wolf queried, lifting a brow. "Didn't your parents teach you how to read?"

"Of course they did," she responded, "but... I thought we'd be doing something more... exciting."

"Exciting?" he repeated, face darkening. "In my line of work, exciting gets you killed. There's no point disciplining the body unless you discipline the mind as well, my young apprentice, and swords are worse than useless if you don't know when to use them. And when not to. Therefore — bookwork."

Turning away, he paced in front of her where she sat at the small desk. "During our time together, I will be instructing you in the many crafts any traveler requires if they wish to pass safely through the many wilds of this realm. Tracking. Fishing. Ropecraft. How to read the skies and the ground, so you always know where you are and where you're headed."

"You will also learn to navigate the urban jungle. How to strike a bargain, to look in a mammal's face and see how far they can be pushed. How to understand the flow of the mob. How to identify threats and opportunities in any situation."

"So what you told my parents wasn't even a lie," Judy said with a sinking feeling.

"I never lie," the wolf said with a straight face. "At least, only when I need to." He resumed his pacing.

"You have potential; that much I can see, but it's up to you what you do with it. Your training with me will be the hardest thing you've ever experienced. You may decide it's too difficult, and give up."

"Never!" Judy shouted, leaping up from her seat.

He ignored her interjection and continued. "I have taken apprentices before, and many of them — indeed, most — couldn't handle it. Do you think you have what so many others, mammals ten times your size and a hundred times your weight, did not?"

"Ab-so-_lute_-ly," she said fiercely. "I don't care how hard it is. I've waited my whole life for this, and even if I have to fight off a posse of elephants with my bare hands, I _will_ pass."

"That's the spirit," he said with the ghost of a smile. "Now get to your bookwork. You have two days to read all of those." With that, he pushed her out the door, still holding her books. Judy looked down in dismay at the stack of volumes she clutched in her paws, wondering how she was ever going to finish in time.

By reading practically nonstop, with only occasional breaks to sleep and eat, Judy closed the cover of the last book just a few hours before the deadline. While certainly no easy read, the volumes were far less dull than she had feared. They contained wagonloads of information on dueling, melee fighting, and interesting maneuvers, as well as far more. There were guides for how to take on giant snakes, what to do when faced with a roc, and how to deal with scorpions. There were notes on the behavior of cockatrices, diagrams on different types of sea serpents, and speculations about even more terrible creatures. Some had been crossed out in inks of mysterious colors, or scribled over with strange symbols.

Even the more mundane ones, like the book on medicinal herbs, contained useful information. There were all sorts of poultices and treatments she had never heard of, some of which required extremely exotic ingredients. One book held a list of things that came from mammals themselves! There she saw possible uses for rhino horn, tiger claws, and bits of leopard fur. Though she knew none of those things were vital parts of a mammal, and certainly didn't require any bloodshed to remove, it made her feel uneasy. That book in particular had been a little disturbing, and she had hurried through it as fast as she could.

The final book had been a welcome change. Instead of cramped, wavering pawwriting, she saw intricate maps of the known world. There were only a few blank spots — most of the pages were taken up with detailed drawings of rivers, forests, and mountains. While fascinating, showing as they did so many places to which she'd never been, with exciting names, the maps were also a bit dubious in their accuracy.

Rubbing her tired eyes, she lay down for a nap, before quickly standing up again. What if she was late? He might think she had given up, and never let her come back. Her whole life would be over before it had even begun!

Suddenly too nervous to rest, she walked out and into the sunlight, only to be practically bowled over by a pair of kits hurtling down the path, the one behind chasing frantically after the other. The pursuer broke off to accost Judy, who recognized the kit as one of her much younger sisters. "Phillip took my dragon!" the kit cried, eyes wet and face tight with anger.

Phillip had stopped once he saw he was no longer being followed, and slunk back to Judy with the stuffed toy clutched in his paw, looking sullenly defiant. "Janie's just being silly over some old toy. Besides, _girls_ shouldn't have dragons. Cool stuff like swords and dragons is for boys."

"You take that back!" Janie shouted, paws balled into fists.

Judy stepped in before things could get violent, trying to settle the indignation she felt herself over Phillip's comments.

"Phillip," she said firmly, "give that back to Janie right now. It's not yours, and you know better than to take things that don't belong to you. And you know better than to say things like that. If Janie wants to play with dragons, you can't tell her not to. What if I said that you could only play with dolls, and had to wear ribbons on your ears all the time?"

"No!" he exclaimed vehemently, a look of horror stamped upon his features, while at the same time Janie squealed excitedly, "Yes!"

"See what I mean?" Judy asked, feeling like she was getting somewhere. "Why should anyone else get to tell you what to do? As long as they're not Mom or Dad, that is," she added hastily, spotting the danger just in time. "You're responsible for your own life. And nobody, not even Mom or Dad, can tell you what you should like or not. You want to not wear ribbons, and nobody else has the right to decide that for you. If Janie wants to like dragons, then, she _can_, and no one can tell her not to."

Both kits were looking almost dizzy at the prospect of so much independence, or maybe they just didn't understand what she was saying at all. Judy sighed mentally and leaned down so she was at eye level with the two.

"The bottom line is, _don't _take things that don't belong to you," she said, shooting Phillip a chilly glare, "and never tell anyone else they can't be whatever they want to be. So if I hear you say anything else about dragons being for boys, Phillip, I'll... I'll make you wear ribbons for a whole week."

Stricken mute by the indescribable horror of this prospect, Phillip stared at her in terror before whirling around and pelting down the path as fast as he could go. Judy watched him, feeling both satisfied and guilty, before her attention was grabbed by a sound from beside her.

"Judy?" Janie asked hesitantly. "Dragons aren't just for boys, right? It's only, that's what everyone says. Even the other girls don't want to play dragons. They just want to play with dolls and brush their fur all the time, and they say I'm funny 'cause I don't, they say boys are the only ones who get to do cool things, and I know not to listen to _Phillip _but everybody, even Mom and Dad say that, so how can they all be wrong? And I get so mad," she continued, blinking away hot tears, "but when I try to say how unfair it is they just say I'm a kit, and a girl, and I should just learn that that's how things are..." She was too choked up to continue.

Aghast, Judy dropped to her knees and embraced the small bunny, sobbing into her chest. "It doesn't matter what _anybody _says," she told Janie fiercely. "They don't get to say what you can do or not. It's what I told both of you just now. Even Mom and Dad don't know everything. How can they know what you want better than you do? You're the only person who can decide that."

Her tears were trailing off now, interrupted by an occasional hitch in her breathing, but she pulled back and looked up at Judy. "Really?" she said faintly, looking painfully hopeful. "You're not just saying that?"

"Of course I'm not! I wouldn't lie to you," Judy replied earnestly. "Nobody has the right to make you do something with your life that you don't want to, and nobody has the right to tell _you _— who — you — are," she finished, poking Janie in the ribs on each final word. The smaller rabbit giggled and laughed, her frown vanishing as Judy launched a tickling assault.

"Thanks, Judy," she said after a little while.

"You don't need to thank me at all," Judy replied. "It's what sisters are supposed to do. And if anybody gives you any trouble, just tell me, and I'll beat them up for you."

"Gosh! I bet you could," Janie said, noticing for the first time the effects of Judy's exercise regimen. "Are you going to do something cool when you grow up, then? Are you going to become a knight in armor and fight dragons?" Her eyes grew wide at the thought of this possibility.

"Not in armor, silly," Judy said. "But... yes, I am. And I won't fight dragons, probably. I'll fight bullies. Anyone who tries to hurt somebody else, especially if that mammal is smaller than them. Everyone thinks us rabbits are weak and defenseless, so they don't take us seriously, and I'll watch for rabbits especially, but I'll protect anyone who needs help."

"Even if they're a predator? Like... a weasel, or a fox or something? Dad says you can't trust foxes."

"Even if they're a predator," Judy said firmly, although privately she harbored doubts about any predator either needing or wanting assistance from a bite-size rabbit. "And don't assume that foxes are untrustworthy just because Dad says so. Remember, he said you shouldn't play with dragons, so he doesn't know everything. Have you ever even met a fox?"

The little kit shook her head solemnly.

"Well, I met one once, a few years ago. He wasn't very nice, but that was just him - not because of his species. I do know a wolf, and he's not mean or vicious like you might think," Judy informed her sister. "He's just old and cranky."

Janie stifled a giggle, before saying, "Is that the wolf who came over the other day? Mom said he was very polite, but Dad said something real quiet and Mom had to whack him."

"That was him," Judy replied, "and he can be polite when he wants to be. Oh, no!" she exclaimed, suddenly remembering. "I'm supposed to meet him today! I can't be late – surely it wasn't that long — oh, my books! Goodbye, Janie," she said hurriedly as she rose. "I promise we'll talk again sometime, but I really have to go now. I'll see you around!" With that, she turned tail and sprinted to get her books, then towards Ingvar's hut.

Desperately wishing someone would devise an easier way to keep track of time than the sun (maybe you could even carry it around with you! wouldn't that be wonderful) Judy walked up to the rough shack with trepidation. Her encounter with Janie and Phillip hadn't _seemed _that long, but the passage of shadows suggested differently. She knocked three times. Just like the first time, the door was yanked open immediately after she pulled her paw away, Ingvar standing in the doorway. This time, however, he beckoned her inside curtly. She followed him in, closing the door behind her, readying herself for anything.

"Well," he said, glancing at the stack of tomes she'd dropped onto the desk, "how many of those did you read?"

"All of them," Judy said promptly.

His eyebrows rose. "Really," he said. "Then perhaps you can tell me what Proudfoot the Hearty says about the best way to kill a crocodile."

"Ermm..." Judy stammered, thinking frantically, "to... stake out some chickens and lure it onto dry land, where it should immediately be tied down with ropes and nets, so as to keep it from escaping or attacking your party. Its hide is too tough to pierce with swords or arrows, so you should have some very large mammals with pikes or axes standing by to chop off its head. By no means should you try and confront it in the water, or on marshy terrain without solid ground. Never attempt to kill more than one at once, or at any time when there might be others in the area, because one or more could come out of the water while you were distracted and fall on you from behind."

"Very good," her teacher responded after a moment's pause. A strange expression was on his face. "Tell me, what would I get if I mixed powdered root of asphodel with an infusion of wormwood?"

"A powerful sleeping potion, usually known as the Draught of Living Death," Judy answered. "But it's very difficult to make, even though there are only two ingredients, and the antidote is far more complicated."

"What are the advantages and disadvantages of using a ball and chain over a mace?"

"It has a lot more reach, and it has more uses. It can strike over an enemy's shield, or wrap around their weapon, or be used to trip them. If wielded properly, it can give much more speed and power in a swing, but it's difficult to master and even more difficult to use comfortably. Only the largest mammals would find it a better alternative than a sword or spear. Compared to a mace, it's more challenging, more deadly, and a lot more weight."

"What did Nedric Bumblewort prescribe as the best remedy for fever?"

"Powdered snake scales mixed with mint, rosemary, and ground borble root," she recited quickly. "But as far as I know, neither snake scales nor rosemary have any effect on illnesses, and mint is just good for cooling down overheated mammals. The borble root would work fine by itself, or with some pince leaves. There doesn't seem to be any need for those extra ingredients."

"Is that so," Ingvar said, looking at her keenly. "How much do you know about medicine, and where did you learn?"

"My mother makes sure we all, especially the does, receive a little instruction in the essential remedies," his protege replied. "She was a big supporter of natural ingredients — using things you could find in an herb garden, or any forest. It's a lot like cooking. _That _ we received a lot more instruction on."

He said nothing for long enough to make Judy wonder whether she had somehow done something wrong, and what it had been. In the midst of anxiously replaying the conversation in her mind, she was interrupted by Ingvar saying, "I didn't expect you to finish all those books." Her head jerked around to him.

"I didn't expect that you would be able to read so much so quickly, or that you would remember anything if you did. I didn't think you would understand the concepts behind the text. I certainly didn't anticipate your having any relevant skills or experience, especially in medicine. Not only are you intelligent, you're also one of the only pupils I've seen who's known how to to cook before showing up here, believe it or not. Too many apprentices — never mine, of course — are musclebound idiots with only half a brain, or pampered dandies who could never make it in the real world. Far too few know anything beyond swinging a sword or downing a tankard."

Taken aback, Judy could only stare as the wolf continued.

"Don't think I'm telling you this because I'm impressed, and don't go getting a big head either. The only reason I'm saying this is to let you know that you're marginally better than the average incompetent. Which isn't to say that you're any good — only that you're not as completely hopeless."

Now she wasn't sure whether to feel offended or grateful. She was edging towards the former.

"It's important that you know this," her teacher went on. "Most of the apprentices I've watched in their training are too stupid to know that they're worthless. Sometimes, they even end up succeeding through sheer stubbornness and dumb luck. You're not like them. I look at you and I can see that... but I also see that you don't know how special you are."

He sighed deeply, rubbing his forehead, before resuming.

"Normally I wouldn't say this to any other apprentice. Both because it wouldn't be true, and because they wouldn't need to hear it. In your case, both apply. The truth is that you have potential. Maybe even more than I did, at your age. With training and experience, you could become a champion among champions. And yet I know that if I don't tell you this, you might give up. Yes, yes, you say you won't," he said, raising a paw to forestall her. "But this training will be the hardest thing you've ever experienced. I won't hold back, because I know how great you can be, and I'd never forgive myself if I let a student of your caliber go to waste. _That's_ why I'm bothering to tell you all this. You need to remember that you can be great, far greater than you know. Even when you most want to quit, to go home and abandon your dream, you have to remember that I told you not to."

He leaned forward, eyes boring into her. "Because not only will I never forgive myself if I don't do my utmost to test you, I will never forgive _you _if you fail to live up to what I know you can be."

Eyes wide, mind a storm of questions and emotions, Judy tried to process everything Ingvar had said. Never had anybody told her that she had the potential to be a champion. She spoke up, suddenly feeling the weight of his expectations settle on her shoulders like a millstone. "Th-thank you, sir. I... I promise I won't let you down."

He snorted and flicked an ear irritably. "You had better not," he growled. "You won't be getting another pep talk like this for quite a while, if ever, so don't forget it. No matter what I say to you after this day — know that I'll only be looking to test you. I'll make it as hard as I can, but I know you can do it, if you push yourself to your limits. Now, let's get back to the reading I assigned you. I'm not at all satisfied with your analyses, and your suggestion on how to improve official remedies is one of the more impudent things I've had the displeasure of witnessing in all my years as a teacher. To start with, your assumption that pikemammals are just as good as axemammals for dispatching an alligator is fatally flawed, if we remember the case of Burron and Hodges..."

Smiling on the inside, Judy listened to her tutor's diatribe on the merits of different weapons against an alligator. Though she was listening intently, part of her mind was still occupied dancing up and down, singing a happy tune.

_Someone believes in me._

The following days were, as Ingvar promised, tough. The following weeks, even more so. As weeks bled into months, Judy found herself tested beyond whatever she had imagined, and far more than she could have ever tested herself.

Ingvar carried out his curriculum with religious fervor, never slackening in his efforts. He piled her high with books of all kinds, on every possible subject, and was waiting the moment she finished to quiz her maniacally on everything she'd learned. His questions ranged from examining her fundamental knowledge of the concept, to the intricate aspects of that particular field and its leaders (past and present), to the most trivial details about the author, their notable deeds, family history, and favorite food.

They covered history, geography, politics, philosophy, etymology, foreign languages, elementary psychology and sociology — if it ended with -ology, chances are Judy found herself forced to study it. They went over math and science, paying special attention to trigonometry and calculus, while discussing current scientific advancements and breakthroughs. Every night, she spent hours poring over treatises and dissertations from long-dead scholars, while also analyzing old war diaries and expedition logs from far-off lands. It was grueling work, and after long hours flipping through dusty pages, trying to read the faded script of some departed author, she occasionally found herself going into a trance, mentally exhausted.

It was extremely difficult, made more so by the fact that she had never expected to spend much time reading. Though her parents kept a large library, she rarely went inside, or bothered to open any of the books. She preferred to spend her time roughhousing with other kits, or as she got older, training in secret.

Yet it was also very rewarding. For all the times she dozed off while reading a particularly dreary paragraph, there were just as many times she stayed up late, reading by candlelight, entranced by some adventurer's account of a battle with pirates or exploration of a lost city. Those books, in contrast to the massive bricks she was stuck with in other subjects, were invitingly slim, and packed with leaves of loose paper on which maps, diagrams, and notations had been carelessly scrawled. Their pages were often stained with blood, oil, or colorful inks, and they occasionally featured scorch marks or exciting gashes.

Where many of her rarer books, and especially the largest ones, were borrowed from her parents' library, these books always came from Ingvar's personal collection, although she never saw anything she was sure was written by him. She was sure he must have been some kind of hero back in his day, despite the fact that he never talked about his past. She respected him to much to pry, but she wondered.

Of course, books were by far the only thing with which Judy occupied herself. The very day after Ingvar's "pep talk," as he called, it he told her to stop her morning exercises. These, he said, would be replaced by a new and far more demanding regimen under his supervision. It entailed not just running, but all kinds of push-ups, sit-ups, pull-ups and chin-ups, weightlifting, and swimming, as well as intense endurance activities designed to boost her stamina and increase her muscle density.

"You'll see some mammals who have muscles bulging out of their ears, with arms bigger than your whole body and legs as big as me," Ingvar told her, "but all they're doing is loading themselves down with extra meat. It makes them slow and heavy. Besides, you're a rabbit. You couldn't have that kind of a body even if you tried — which you shouldn't. You need to be tough and wiry. Instead of building your body up, you build it down, making your muscles more powerful without getting any bigger. It'll make you heavier than you look, but a whole lot stronger too, and mammals will be likely to underestimate you. At least, they will if you know what you're doing," he said gruffly, his tone reverting back to that of the grouchy instructor. "I want to see all of those again, this time done right."

Ingvar didn't hide his contempt for traditional workouts, saying they were a waste of time. He spent only a week on the basic exercises before moving on to those that were more advanced, like vertical push-ups. He spent a great deal of time helping her with balance, coordination, and reflexes. He taught her gymnastics, diving, rock climbing, and other things. She learned how to climb ropes upside down, going in both directions, and how to run only on her front paws. She spent a lot of time inverted, as a matter of fact. Ingvar explained that most mammals were limited more by themselves than their surroundings, and that she should be able to react smoothly in any situation. At least it stopped her from throwing up after too long suspended in midair.

Unfortunately for her, they wouldn't get to the high-level stuff like lockpicking, paw-to-paw combat, or baking for quite a while (Judy wasn't sure if he was kidding about the baking part) and even after those, there was still the entire world of armed combat to explore. Swords, spears, axes, bolas... She was alternately discouraged and thrilled at the thought of how much she had yet to learn.

Of course, she couldn't spend too much time dreaming about the future. Ingvar worked her hard, mentally and physically. True, she was learning a lot, and she was becoming more fit than she ever had been, but the toll was significant. She went to bed every day feeling half-dead, but when she woke up, it was as almost as if she had never gone to sleep at all. Though Ingvar told her how important it was to be well-rested, she couldn't bear the thought of turning in when there were still books to be read and analyses to be made, or of showing up the next day unprepared. She was still happy to learn, and she would never even consider quitting, but she was pushing herself too far.

Although her performance remained excellent, she became more tired during the day, until at last — despite her best effort to stay awake — she fell asleep in the middle of a discussion about natural mammal weaponry.

"Apprentice!" the wolf barked at her. She came awake with a start, panicked. "I'm sorry, sir! I just —"

"I think we'll end the lesson early today," he said, cutting her off. "And take the day off for yourself tomorrow. Get some rest." When she tried to protest, he stared her down until she backed out the door, anxiety and relief mixed across her features.

As the door closed behind her, Ingvar frowned and sat down, looking inward. He knew what was going on, and he knew he couldn't let it continue.

_Something must be done,_ he thought to himself.

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**AN - And that's it! I really appreciate the feedback from the first chapter — you guys are great! — so let me know what you think. I don't always have time to write every day, so this may end up coming out in longer chapters that are farther apart, I guess we'll see. Also, there's an easter egg in this chapter. A little obvious, but I wanted to include it. Anyways, leave a review to tell me how you feel about the story so far. :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**AN - Sorry for the wait. The beginning's been slow, but things should start picking up pace soon. There's more stuff in this chapter. Leave a like if you enjoy!**

* * *

Golden sunlight poured through the window, illuminating a small wooden room. It had few furnishings — a nightstand, a chest, a straw mattress. On the last could be observed a threadbare blanket, creatively patterned but worn with use and age. A pair of gray ears poked out from under it.

Judy, snuggled beneath the covers, was still dreaming, for the first time in quite a while. She was a hero, beloved by all, scourge of evildoers and sworn enemy of lawbreakers. She had just finished defeating an outlaw gang, in suitably dramatic fashion, and she was sitting by the bank of a stream as the villagers cheered in the distance.

She wasn't at all surprised to find that as the stream babbled by, it was carrying her away with it, even though she was still sitting on the grass. The scenery distorted around her, and she calmly kept pace with the flowing water as she slid through the forest. The celebration of the villagers receded behind her.

Up ahead, she knew, was someone she had to meet. She wasn't sure who, or why she had to meet them, but she knew it was going to happen. Any minute now.

But in her dream, as she slowly began to swim up through layers of unconsciousness, she dimly remembered something. It was something she was supposed to do — maybe almost as important as the mammal she was on her way to meet, and more urgent. She knew her meeting could wait. In the meantime, she needed to do something. What was it?

She sensed that if she didn't do it, bad things would happen... Yes, it was becoming clearer. She had made a mistake, or at least it wasn't her fault, but she had to go to an appointment with someone — a different someone — and clear it up. If she was late, she wouldn't be able to... what? It was still fuzzy.

All at once, the memory made itself clear. Judy sat bolt upright, face frozen in horror. In her mind, dozens of different alarms were going off at once. "Oh, no, no, no, no, _no!_" she whispered, feeling as if she must still be dreaming. The light coming through the window told her it was late morning, at least. This had to be a nightmare. Surely she couldn't have overslept for her lessons with Ingvar. _Surely _that couldn't have happened.

She felt herself teetering on the edge of total panic, when just as suddenly as before, she remembered the rest. She didn't have any lessons today. Ingvar had told her to take the day off and get some sleep. She wasn't in trouble. Her life wasn't over.

A massive wave of relief swept over her. Flopping back onto her bed, she thought back to yesterday. She knew she hadn't really done anything wrong, but it had been hard not to feel like that at the time. At least he hadn't shouted at her, or told her to get out and never come back. Still, what if he was disappointed in her? He might change his mind and decide that she wasn't good enough.

She thought about going back to sleep, but her sudden awakening had driven all the clouds from her mind, and she didn't think she could fall asleep again if she tried. Throwing back the covers, she leapt out of bed and strode through the door.

Remembering what had happened last time she was in similar circumstances, Judy scanned the path carefully for any kits on a collision course, and set off through the streets. Around her, mammals went about their day, engaged in all the tasks that kept the village running. Recognizing her, many waved and greeted her, clearly wondering why she was out so late, and not at lessons. She greeted them in return.

As she went along the lane, her mind turned backwards, remembering another time she had come this way, and her meeting with the two kits. She hadn't seen either of them since. She wondered how they were doing — Janie in particular. The little kit's predicament reminded her a great deal of her own, and Judy hoped she'd been able to help.

She couldn't really be mad at Phillip, she thought to herself. Although it was tempting, she knew that he was only repeating what he'd heard everywhere — from all the bucks in his life, and probably many of the does. She was glad that her mother didn't hold for any really egregious nonsense, and still made sure her daughters could take care of themselves, but the Hopps family matriarch wasn't too keen on the idea of any does swinging swords around. Judy knew that from experience.

Although it was frustrating, Judy didn't see any immediate way to change mammals' minds. Nobody wanted to support her, and nobody thought that she was going to succeed. Her family doubted her because she was a girl, and the rest of the world doubted her because she was a bunny. Well, that was alright. It didn't matter if nobody stuck up for her. She was going to stick up for herself.

This straightened her spine and put fresh resolve into her stride, which lasted approximately four seconds before she realized that she didn't know where she was going. By this time she had left the village almost entirely and was on the path out to the fields. Huh, she thought. Well, what was something she could do? Was there anyone she should spend time with? Well... not really. She had mostly fallen out of touch with her old friends — the episode at market day had shown her that they, too, doubted her — and had since had little time, thanks to her own and, more recently, Ingvar's training. Bucks her age thought she was too independent, and her female counterparts never seemed to take anything seriously enough.

She couldn't go train, she was supposed to be resting, and she couldn't even imagine paying Ingvar a visit just to chat. She didn't really want to spend time with any of her family either.

So she had nowhere to go, nothing to do, and nobody to talk to. Lacking any better ideas, she decided to go down by the river and think. If it was a day for relaxation, then by gum she was going to relax, she thought determinedly. After a few seconds of reflection, she admitted that that maybe wasn't the best frame of mind for relaxation, but whatever.

Letting her paws carry her down by the riverbank, she listened to the babble of the stream and let the cool shade wash over her. In the calm, she tried to recall her dream. It had happened next to a river, she could remember that much, and there had been a feeling of something going wrong. Yet that was due to her fears over missing her ordinary meeting; it wasn't originally part of the dream. She had been going to meet someone... She left before she could, but somehow that was okay. More than any other, the feeling Judy had gotten from the dream was that of patience and inevitability. Whoever she was supposed to see, she would find them eventually. It wasn't something she needed to worry about.

She wondered who it was she was going to meet, and decided she probably didn't need to waste her time about it. She had heard that some mammals could have dreams about the future, or important things that were going to happen to them, but Judy had never considered herself a very spiritual rabbit. And even on the off chance that the dream was going to come true, there was no way to know when or how. It could happen the next day, or twenty years from now.

Letting her thoughts wander, Judy idly kicked her paws in the swirling water. Warm light filtered through the leaves and dappled the ground with shifting beams of green and gold. Birds chirped around her unseen.

The question was, she pondered, what was she going to do after her training with Ingvar was over? It was all well and good to say that she would simply strike out on her own, but if her parents refused to let her go, and she disobeyed, she would cast quite a pall over their relations, maybe for the rest of their lives. She wasn't sure which would be worse — leaving without telling her parents, or going in spite of their refusal.

And if she was completely honest with herself, she didn't have much of a plan, even if her parents did let her go. Would she just wander around in the wild? How was she supposed to know where to go? What if there were mammals somewhere who needed her help, but she didn't know about it? Would anyone even want her help? Would mammals take her seriously?

Trying to ignore all the troubling questions muddling up her mind, Judy brought her attention back to more immediate concerns. She wasn't really lying to her parents about her training; she just wasn't telling them things. But what she was leaving out was that she was training for something of which they disapproved, and readying herself to leave them all behind — perhaps for good. If she told them, they'd never let her go, but what would they think of her if she didn't?... She was going in circles.

The thing to do, she reasoned, was to make it as clear as possible that she was going to leave no matter what. If they knew she wasn't bluffing, they might decide to just let her do what she wanted. In that case, she should make her announcement public. Then she realized she was overlooking something. Even if she told them she was going to become an adventurer, they might not believe her. All of her sparring was being done in secret. Nobody would have any reason to believe that she was telling the truth. There had to be _some _way...

She sat straight up, her ears stiffening in shock at the realization. There _was _a way. She could enter the tournament!

It was perfect! If she entered, she would have a chance to show her skill in front of the whole village. Not only would it prove that she was for real, it would show everyone that she could be great even as a bunny. Bunnies never competed in the tournament. Sure, there was a wrestling section for the bucks, but it was just sport. The real challenge lay in the arena, where rams and badgers and porcupines vied for the golden trophy. That was for the real fighters. Deaths were rare, but not unheard of. Injuries were common. Only the best — or most foolish — entered.

If she entered and won, everybody would see that she had achieved something she had wanted for years. Her childhood dreams were no secret. And they would also know that she had done it in spite of her parents, against their wishes. She would be calling them out in front of everyone. Nobody could say later on that she slunk away like a weasel — that is, like a thief in the night.

She was filled with conflicting emptions at the idea. She wanted to show off what she could do — assuming Ingvar actually got around to teaching her how to do things — but she quailed at the thought of flouting her parents' authority so openly, as though she didn't care about them at all. That just wasn't true! She did love them, and she didn't want to make them unhappy, but it wasn't fair of them to make her choose between her happiness or theirs. They had plenty of other children to make them happy.

Alright, that's enough, she told herself. She'd been thinking about this for too long. Shaking her head, she picked herself up and began the trek back into town, hoping to distract herself. It didn't do to worry too much about the future — it stopped you from concentrating on the present.

The next morning she was waiting outside Ingvar's hut in the misty predawn stillness. Though she had been standing there for almost ten minutes, he had yet to emerge, and she could only guess what game he was playing. He couldn't possibly have failed to pick up her scent.

Just as the edge of the sun's disc broke the horizon, the door was roughly shoved open, and her teacher's baleful eyes were staring down at her. "You," he said without bothering to greet her, "are early."

"But we always start at this time!" Judy protested.

"We start whenever I say we start," Ingvar snarled. "And I say we don't start for another five minutes."

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. They both stood there. He never took his eyes off hers. Feeling as if this was probably a test, she stared resolutely back.

After what felt like an hour but was certainly a lot less, he cleared his throat and said gruffly, "Very well, get inside."

Still wondering at his behavior, Judy walked in and sat down. He followed, placing himself opposite her. The dim light threw shadows on his face.

"You may be wondering why you're here," he said. "I would hope for the opposite, but then again your deliberate ignorance of your problem is why I find myself wasting so much time on you."

She was speechless.

"I rarely need to say this to an apprentice, but the truth is — you're trying too hard."

Still speechless.

"That wouldn't even be a problem if it weren't for the fact that you can't take proper care of yourself. You abuse your mind and body with overwork, and you neglect to get the rest that you need. Too often, when I see you come in, it's clear that you haven't gotten even half the sleep you should have. Not only do you push yourself harder than you should, you don't allow yourself to recover afterwards."

She was trying to process his words, but she couldn't accept what she was hearing. She had been working too hard? How was that even possible? When was that ever a bad thing? Wasn't she doing well?

"Yes, you're doing exceptionally so far, but that comes at a cost. You won't be able to maintain this for long, and if you try, you could cause permanent damage to yourself. Now, I'm only going to say this once, so listen up. If you don't shape up and treat yourself right, you're going to fail. Your reflexes and your attention will be dulled, your energy will be low, you'll lose one fight and you won't be able to get back up afterwards. If that happens, I won't bother teaching you any longer. You're out."

She didn't know what to make of it all. She was doing exceptionally, but she was going to fail? Purposefuly working below your limits went against every instinct she had, but after only a little thought she was forced to admit that he had a point. She _had _found herself to have less energy lately, and a little more sleep would be nice. More than anything else, however, the thing which swayed her the most was his flat statement that he'd fail her — just like that. That terrified her. And if there was anything she could do to prevent such an outcome, she was going to put everything she had into it, even if that meant _not _putting in everything she had.

"I'm sorry for my excessive zeal, sir," she said, deciding to risk a little humor. "I'll try to be as unenthusiastic as possible in the future."

He stared at her for a long moment, before his muzzle quirked up slightly. "See that you do," he said. "Now, to review your assigned reading from last time..."

And everything was back to normal again.

As far as Judy could tell, he didn't slacken off on her at all, although he didn't try to push her any further. From the few subtle hints he dropped, she gathered that it was up to her to keep a better schedule. When she put her mind to it, it was easy. She didn't stay up as late — candles were expensive anyway — and she took more breaks while working. She spread out her reading and interspersed it with casual stretches to keep herself limber. She tried to remain a relaxed attitude, and difficult as that was, she found it helped keep her in better spirits.

Of course, a relaxed approach for Judy was still hyperactive for any other mammal, and she continued to excel in her studies. Though he never remarked on it, Judy thought she was doing well. At least, she hoped. If she had ever met a more difficult mammal to read than Ingvar, she didn't remember it.

They continued to examine the sciences, politics, history, language and mathematics. She learned to speak the basics of Tropican and Polaric, as well as a smattering of Bovinian, Cervish and Felinese.

In addition, they continued the routine workouts, now augmented by basic paw-to-paw combat drills and practice exercises. Just like the first time they sparred, Judy fiund herself completely unable to land a paw on him, but she learned a great deal nevertheless.

One day they were going over the reading from a week or so ago, as the summation of a brief foray into recent philosophy. It had been an engaging but oftentimes aggravating experience for Judy, as she read page after page of infuriating monologues on the status and purpose of females, in every case written by male mammals, and she was dying to have her say.

"...And note how Locke's proposition that all mammals are essentially equal leads us to Fawntesquieu's notion of inherent rights, belonging to every mammal in equal share, never to be infringed. This is contrasted with... Yes, Hopps?"

"I agree with Fawntesquieu," Judy said, "but do his ideas hold true in practice? If all mammals have equal rights, that should include does, and yet females of every kind remain subject to male influence. Not to mention that many species, like foxes and weasels, are considered untrustworthy and still aren't accorded the same rights as others. Predators as a whole are treated with indifference at best and outright hostility at worst, just because of how they look — oh."

She realized then that she was talking to a wolf, who surely didn't need her to tell him about how unfairly he had it.

"I know how predators are treated, Hopps," Ingvar said mildly. "I also know that rabbits are given their own share of disdain, simply for being small and unthreatening, and while I can't share the burden of your gender I can at least say that I've seen many disparities in how males treat themselves as opposed to the other sex. I do my best to discourage that. It's always been my opinion that character has little to do with one's appearance."

"Exactly!" Judy cried, feeling vindicated. "But somehow other mammals don't feel the same way. How could that be? I know," she said, answering her own question, "it's mostly because they were raised the wrong way, and they can't help that. But they should be conscious of their own actions. Even if you can't help thinking that way from time to time, you should be able to say 'I know that every mammal has the same rights, and I'm doing my best to show that I support that through my actions.' Yet somehow Mousseau writes that females ought to be subordinate to males in everything, except for washing dishes and doing chores!"

"Which has gained him no small following among females," Ingvar pointed out, probing her arguments.

Judy inhaled through her nose, calming herself. "That's almost more infuriating," she said. "Of course, it's because they would rather have greater authority in something familiar than gain the choice to venture out into a world full of discouragement. And it's not fair to demand that every female feel the same way I do. My family is well off, I'm educated, and what with having so many siblings, I've had to become more independent. My circumstances aren't the same. But as long as we continue accepting the limits that males set around us, we'll never make any progress."

"Not all revolutions are accomplished in a day," Ingvar responded. "Some, not even in a single lifetime. And you can't overthrow generations of tradition alone. Focus on yourself. Change what you can around you, and that will spread outward, like ripples in a pool. That goes for any such cause. Sometimes, however, a few words in the right place can spark a riot or a rebellion. It's important to know the right time for anything."

Privately thinking that sounded more than a little vague, Judy tried a different tack. "Not to be too prying, but... has anyone ever treated you differently just because you were a predator?"

"All the time," his answer came promptly. "It's not something you can escape from, especially in my line of work. Not all of it's bad — most mammals tend to avoid irritating wolves, especially since we stick together. I've found that a growl or a few fangs can be useful in the right situation. But yes, the reverse has happened to me. It's usually either large prey looking for a fight or rich prey looking for someone they feel is lower than them. I don't let it bother me too much — they rarely do more than sling a few insults."

"But it can get to you," he continued. "And I've seen worse things happen to other predators, mammals who'd never harmed a soul. I've seen angry mobs looking for a target for their anger, and seizing upon the first fox in their path. Fists flying, blood spilled... I've seen predators pulled out of a crowd just for looking suspicious, then killed when they try to defend themselves. I count myself lucky no one's tried that on me. There are worse things than insults."

Eyes wide, Judy listened to his words with mounting horror. "Killed?" she whispered, not wanting to believe it. "I knew things were bad for you, but not _that_ bad..."

"Just be grateful you've never seen a slave ship," Ingvar told her grimly. "Death is worse than insults, but some things are worse than death."

"My family don't keep slaves!" she protested. "They wouldn't!"

"If they did, I'd not be here," he responded. "The world is full of injustice, Hopps. As much as we try, sometimes it's a long time going away."

* * *

Feeling wracked by guilt, Judy left Ingvar's hut with ears drooping. What right did she have to demand rights for females when predators were being killed in the streets? Nothing like that happened here, but it was awful to know that it was going on that very moment. And slaves! She almost wept to think that somehow, the slave trade was still thriving. What sort of monsters could be running that enterprise, pocketing gold bought with the flesh and fur of innocent mammals?

She wasn't sure she could ever be comfortable with herself again, knowing what went on outside her sheltered hamlet. She was the daughter of nobles. She had never wanted for food or money, although her family was frugal, and she had been relatively free to pursue her own interests. She could even go into a trade if she wished — after all, that was what her parents thought she was doing with Ingvar.

At this fresh reminder of her deception, Judy felt the shame threaten to overwhelm her. How could she live like this? It wasn't healthy.

Alright, fine, she thought. Compared to most, she lived a life of privilege. Well, the rest of her family might be okay with that, but she was not. She was going to go out into the world and _help _people. So she could comfort herself with the knowledge that at least she was going to do something; she just hadn't yet.

Still feeling in need of something to lift her spirits, Judy scanned the horizon in search of something to distract herself with. There! In one of the cornfields, she spotted the telltale wisps of light that meant someone was doing magic. Strands of gold and green twined up through the air and vanished, glowing softly before they winked out into nothing. She resolved to go over and see what was what.

Pushing the stalks of corn aside as she moved through the field, Judy emerged into an open space betwen the rows, where her attention was arrested by the source of the magic. A young doe with dingy gray fur was crouched down into the dirt, eyes closed in concentration. Her paws were rising and falling as they traced sinuous motions in the air. Following each paw were streamers of light, rippling with energy. Vibrant, living colors — sap green, harvest gold, sunshine yellow — shifted as the magic continued.

After a few minutes the spell faded, twinkling motes lingering in the air for only a few seconds before they too were gone. The doe opened her eyes and stood up, stretching. When her gaze landed on Judy, a brilliant smile broke out across her face. "Judy! I didn't know you were out here!"

"Not really, I just saw someone doing magic and thought I'd stop by. How's it going, Lexie?"

"Oh, you know," the other doe answered casually. "This cornfield had a touch of blight a few months ago, so I'm just checking in to make sure it's healthy. Otherwise it might come back. You can never be sure sometimes; it depends on what you're dealing with. Pretty sure this one was just rot — I gave the plants a little boost to keep 'em strong."

"Really?" Judy asked, her curiosity aroused. "How does that work, anyway? I saw you waving your paws around... is there something specific you have to do?"

"Nope," Lexie answered cheerfully. "I just do what feels right and go with it. It's worked so far."

"Huh," Judy said thoughtfully. "Don't spells need to have words, or symbols, or something?" She had only a foggy understanding of how magic was supposed to work. So far, it hadn't come up in her lessons with Ingvar. He'd said that was a more advanced topic.

"Well, some spells do," came the answer. "Usually those are the more complicated ones that are meant for one specific function. The really complex ones have whole diagrams that have to be drawn out all precise, with string and chalk and whatnot. Although, really, you can draw a diagram for anything if you want, if it helps you. Whatever works to help you focus."

Judy mulled that over for a few seconds. "I didn't know that," she said. "So if you concentrate enough, you don't need anything else at all?"

"Well, it's tricky to keep your mind in the right state without any outside assistance. Not many mammals can do it. Me, I don't try for absolute calm or anything like that. The world is too busy for calm!" Lexie said, eyes bright. "I feel the earth under me, the sky above, and all the growing things in between. I feel the rhythm of life, and I move to it."

Closing her eyes, she began to sway slightly, as if in response to music only she could hear. Slowly bringing her paws up from her sides, she teased thin strands of light out of the air, as if unweaving some discorporeal fabric. Gathering the strands together, she rolled them into a little ball of light between her paws. Without warning, she pitched the ball at Judy —

— who tried to catch it, only for the little orb to go right through her paws. Not between or around, but straight through the fur and into her chest, where it burst soundlessly within her. Judy gasped, feeling a tiny explosion of heat spreading warmth throughout her body, from the ends of her hindpaws to the tips of her ears. It didn't hurt at all. On the contrary, it was somehow deliciously comfortable.

Judy laughed, suddenly filled with an unaccountable feeling of happiness. "I know," Lexie said, grinning. "I feel the same way whenever I do that."

"What exactly _did_ you do?" Judy asked, breathless. "That was wonderful!"

"Oh, not a whole lot," her cousin replied. "I just gathered up some of the energy of life around me and sent it to you. Doesn't take much out of me, energy-wise, but that doesn't mean it's easy. Makes you real peppy, though, huh?"

"Absolutely," Judy said gleefully. "I bet I could run ten miles and still have a little left over."

"I bet you could," Lexie said keenly, scrutinizing Judy's form. "Sure looks like you've been keeping yourself trim. Well, nothing wrong with that, I suppose."

"Wh-what do you mean?" the doe stammered nervously.

"Nothing," Lexie replied innocently. "After all, you're going to go out into the big bad world and start your own business. Stands to reason you wouldn't want to be dependent on others all the time, 'specially knowing you. All I'll say is that some of us — not many, but some — are proud of what you're doing, even if Mom and Dad aren't."

With that, she winked and bounced away, leaving Judy to reevaluate her opinion of Lexie. It seemed like a lot had happened today... first there was that talk with Ingvar, and then she was learning about magic, and now she was finding out that she wasn't alone after all. Her family wasn't completely against her.

Things might just work out.

A small smile spreading across her face, Judy began walking back to town, feeling happier than she'd been in a while.

* * *

**AN - Wow, that was quite a chapter. Didn't think it was going to be that long, but I wasn't sure where to end it. Could have put the bit with Lexie in the next one, I just wanted you guys to have something lengthy after the break between updates, and now we're finally getting into magic! **

**Fair warning — the magic system in this fic will be pretty loose. (Mostly because I don't want to spend a ton of time agonizing over how to make logical, consistent laws.) Anyways, the plot is moving forward! First two chapters were pretty dull. Hopefully only one or two more before Judy bids farewell to the fief of Bunnyburrow... and after that, anything can happen! **

**As always, I value your feedback. Leave a review and let me know what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**AN - First things first — an apology. I haven't posted anything in months, because school but also because I'm lazy, and this is way overdue. Now I have to apologize again, though, because I'll be away all summer and almost certainly won't get any writing done during that time. So I wrote this nice long one to tide you over. At least it's the longest one I've written so far; whatever. It should be at least marginally more interesting than the last chapter, if you like tournaments. Plus I snuck in a couple references so try and spot'em maybe. Anyways, hope you enjoy!**

* * *

The months sped by as Judy's apprenticeship continued. Under Ingvar's watchful eye, she continued to excel in all subjects, from camouflage to geometry. Finally he pronounced her ready to begin real combat training.

Her paw-to-paw drills continued unabated, but her scholarly lessons slowly began to be replaced by instruction on different types of weapons and their uses, how to properly clean and take care of them, and different fighting styles. No matter how much she wished it were otherwise, though, Ingvar stolidly proceeded to take his time on everything. "What you learn here will save your life someday," he was fond of saying. "You must be intimately familiar with every aspect of your weapon."

"Which weapon?" Judy ventured to ask.

"All of them," he replied unconcernedly.

Which was why, on a bright fall afternoon, she found herself in a duel for her life, wielding only a stick.

Panting, she ducked her teacher's slash and backed away, branch held high defensively. Gauging his movements, she moved in for a quick strike to the left, only to be blocked by a simple wrist movement. His weapon blurred as he cracked it down on her forearm.

Clamping her mouth shut against the stinging pain, Judy attacked again, feinting high before sweeping low at his legs. He hopped into the air and struck down at her. She barely brought her stick up in time, finding herself suddenly pressed by a flurry of strikes and slashes.

Making a desperate lunge, she overextended. Ingvar slipped neatly to the side and poked her in the back of one knee, causing her to stumble and fall. Face-down in the dirt, she sighed, trying to quash her irritation. Another loss.

"Well?" her teacher asked curtly. "What did you do wrong?"

"I left myself open on the lunge," she answered wearily. "I didn't keep my balance."

"Consider every move before you make it," he snapped at her. "Your opponent is always waiting to take advantage of an ill-planned or poorly-executed attack. Never act in desperation. Observe, think, then strike! Such a last-ditch attempt against a superior enemy is likely to get you killed, even if you manage to take them out with you." Tossing his stick aside, he made no effort to help her up, instead remarking, "I think that's all for today. Don't forget to review Gustafferson's treatise on the nine uses of halberds in open-plain warfare."

"Yes, sir," she answered, trying to keep her head up. Gosh, she was tired. "Um... you know the tournament's in a few weeks, right?"

"I am aware," he answered dryly. "I suppose you'd like to go?"

"If it's not too much trouble," she said hopefully. "After all, it's only one day, and I'm sure I'd learn a lot from watching."

"As it happens, I had already planned on our going," he said. "It would, as you say, be a great benefit to your education to witness the art of combat as practiced in the real world." There was a bit of an odd tone to his voice, but she barely registered it, so happy was she to find her wish realized.

"Thank you so much!" she shouted, leaping up to give him a brief hug despite her fatigue. Snatching up her books, she darted off towards home.

Ingvar watched her go, thinking. "Hmph," was all he said.

* * *

Two weeks later, the village was bustling. Even on regular market days, things were busy, but every tournament was a market day. Merchants, traders and craftsmammals came from many miles around to find business, catering to those who had traveled almost as far to witness the spectacle. Money flowed like water, and the clinking of coins was everywhere.

The streets were filled with vendors hawking their wares, vying for the most customers. Mammals haggled over prices, clutching purses tightly against the wandering pickpockets who looked for an easy mark. The air rang with the clanging of hammers and the sizzling of fried foods. It was like a regular market in most respects, until you noticed the tiered benches standing on the green, and the many colored tents erected up around them. That was where the fighting would take place.

Eyeing the muddle suspiciously, Ingvar waded through the crowd, tailing the small gray bunny several paces ahead of him as she hopped from stall to stall. Ears perked and eyes wide, Judy was making the most of her day, despite the fact that she couldn't actually compete. In fact, she had been a little relieved when her teacher made it clear that under no circumstance was she to attempt any actual combat. Even as optimistic as she was, she knew she wasn't ready to tangle with experienced warriors. Besides, if she did, her cover would be blown, and she still had years of training left to complete.

So today was a day for watching only, and for trying not too betray too much interest. Fortunately, most does were expected to swoon over the daring feats of strength on display, and if anyone noticed her getting too excited, they probably wouldn't think anything of it. Judy thanked her lucky stars for that — she was already having a hard time curbing her enthusiasm. The last tournament to be held in Bunnyburrow had been almost six years ago, and she could barely remember it. Soon she would be up in the stands, able to watch real heroes compete. She could hardly wait!

Unable to contain her glee, Judy bounced up and down a few times before hurrying on, anxious for the events to begin, and eager to get a good seat.

Every tournament was different, but they all operated along the same basic lines. There were two main types of competitions - those for magic users, and those for more material combatants. Each type was divided into different classes. Mages were ranked on power and experience, while warriors were separated based on size and skill. Then there was a wild card option for each which included participants of all sorts, aimed at hotheads looking to prove themselves against older masters.

Once the weak had been eliminated, each of the qualifiers in the two respective competitions went up against the others, until there was only one winner from each tourney, as well as several second- and third-place finishers. It was rare for the two winners to go up against each other, as the completely different natures of their abilities made for unfair combat, whoever won. Two wizards could counter each other, and two skilled swordsmammals could stretch a battle out for quite some time, but pitting one against the other usually resulted in a disappointingly brief engagement.

In some tournaments, there were no divisions of skill. Instead it was a simple bracket system, systematically working through random pairs until one was left. Others included a melee where all contestants could throw themselves against each other. Depending on the size of the venue and the number of volunteers, there could be any number of additional events — archery and axe-throwing contests, boxing, wrestling, fencing; and for the mages, displays of proficiency in various areas like fire-raising and illusions.

Due to Bunnyburrow's peaceful rural nature, nobody expected this tourney to be particularly exciting. The area was lacking in large, fearsome mammals — it was mostly home to rabbits, the occasional mustelid, and a great deal of placid ungulates — and contained few mages. There wasn't going to be a magic section, or even any rabbits competing. A separate wrestling contest had already been held for those bucks who wanted a little excitement, but no one considered them worth anything in a fight. Sure, there had been the Battle of Tulgey Wood, but that was three hundred years ago, and bunnies were now almost universally regarded as the weakest mammals in the animal kingdom.

Well. Almost.

For in the mind of one doe, a bunny _was_ worth something, and she was determined to prove it, no matter how long it took. She would show everybody what she could do, and when the day finally came, she would — oh! it was starting! She picked up her feet and sprinted for the stands.

With the tinny blare of a few trumpets, the crowd's attention was drawn to the village green, where a large square had been pegged out in the middle with string. Nearby, a ragtag assortment of mammals was loitering near their tents. Some carried swords or staves, others shields and spears, while a few appeared to wield nothing at all. Some were large, some small; some held themselves with an air of self-assurance, while most did not. These were the contestants. Soon, they would take their stand on the field of battle. They would either prove themselves, winning glory and recognition, or be booed off the field in disgrace. The pressure was evident on their faces. Those few old hands present had seen it all before, and revealed nothing.

Heart pounding, Judy scanned the benches, hoping her parents weren't here to catch her eye. How were they all filled already? She could swear she had seen at least a half-dozen empty spots just a few moments ago. She couldn't bear it if she had to watch from the sidelines, trying to steal glimpses through the legs of taller mammals...

"Up here, Hopps," she heard suddenly over the noise of the assembled spectators. She looked up to see Ingvar's grizzled muzzle scowling at her a few levels up, maintaining an empty space next to him through what appeared to be the power of sheer irascibility. Though he looked like he would rather have his fur yanked out than be stuck where he was, Judy had never been happier to see anybody in her whole life.

Awkwardly squeezing through the packed benches, drawing muttered complaints and whispering apologies as she went, Judy dropped into an opening next to her teacher with a sigh of relief. Right then, she was extremely grateful for her small size.

She was about to thank Ingvar for saving her a seat when something occurred to her. "How did you get here ahead of me?" she asked, trying to think back to where she'd last seen him. "Wasn't I in front of you?" He merely grunted in reply.

Adding it to the list of his mysterious talents, Judy shrugged and turned back to the field. Already the divisions and entrants had been announced, and the first two combatants were taking their places. She could see a badger wielding a pike up against a deer carrying a buckler and a light staff. Neither seemed very confident. Around her, bets were already being placed on the outcome.

"I'll put two on the deer —"

"The deer, are you crazy? Look how skinny he is. Wobbly as a newborn, too. My money's on the badger for sure —"

"With that pike? Who even uses a pike when it's one-on-one? He'll trip over that thing and knock himself out —"

"Oh, please, the reach alone is enough to win it for him, all he has to do is stand back and give that deer one good poke —"

As the bickering continued, Judy leaned close to her mentor and whispered, "Is there always this much betting?"

He glanced briefly at her, then returned his gaze to the dueling pair. "No. Usually there's more."

Out on the field, the badger somehow managed to knock over both himself and his opponent with a spectacularly terrible move, leading to groans and derisive jeers from the audience. To the further delight of the crowd, an official came out to proclaim that they were both eliminated due to sheer ineptitude, and the two were pursued out of the ring by boos and bits of thrown food. Judy could see that the deer was actually close to tears.

"That seems a little harsh," she said, empathizing with the two. "I feel sorry for them. And why did those mammals have to be throwing things?"

Ingvar appeared unsympathetic. "That's the way it is. They shouldn't have entered if they weren't at least competent enough to handle themselves in a single bout." Sensing her discomfort, he added, "And the crowds are always like that. Do well, show off, and they love you. Make one mistake and they'll be pelting you with rotten tomatoes. It's just something you have to get used to. If those two can't take that, they'll never make it."

Frowning, Judy barely noticed the next pair up as she thought. She certainly didn't remember any of this from her last tournament — probably not surprising — but it had never figured into her view of the world. When she had envisioned a tournament, she certainly hadn't imagined _this. _In her world, even the losers were treated with respect, not contempt, and rookies were encouraged to learn through experience, not chased off with insults. She supposed the betting could be allowed, since many mammals would find it a lot less enjoyable otherwise, but she didn't think that being a hero (or heroine) should be such a commercial enterprise. Thinking back, she remembered Ingvar's look of distaste when he had mentioned introducing her to the "real world," and realized that this was what he must have meant.

Snapping out of her fugue, she saw one scruffy-looking goat disarm another with a clever strike, accompanied by cheers from the spectators. The loser accepted his defeat with equanimity, and the two bowed to each other before leaving. The sight cheered her up somewhat. She hadn't been paying attention to the fight, but she was always pleased to see courtesy on the battlefield.

The referee stood forth to declare that the rookie rounds were over, and they would now be entering the intermediate section of the tourney. Judy sat up a little straighter. This was for more experienced mammals, and was taken more seriously. Unlike the one for newbies, the intermediate section was divided up by size, going from smallest to largest. Higher-quality tourneys went by weight, using massive scales to weigh all the contestants, but they had nothing like that here.

As the first two warriors walked onto the field — a weasel and an otter — the betting intensified. Mammals called out seemingly random numbers, placing money on everything from the duration of the fight, to the number of touches, to how likely it was that the loser would flee the field in tears.

"Five says the weasel gets it in under a minute —"

"_Ten_ says the otter does —"

"I'll wager the weasel tries cheating within ninety seconds if he can't win before then. Tricky devils, weasels —"

"Fifteen says you're full of dung; I know plenty of weasels with more moral fiber in their left toe than you've got in your whole body, Jevis Stiltkin —"

"Ah, _this_ for your moral fiber," punctuated by a rude gesture, and the wagering devolved into good-natured squabbling.

Beside her, Ingvar snorted contemptuously. "Betting is for fools," he muttered. "Only an idiot would risk good money so pointlessly, especially when they've got no idea who's going to win."

"Do you?" Judy ventured hesitantly. "Have an idea, that is?"

He eyed her closely, then spoke. "This fight won't last longer than a few seconds at the outside, once their blades touch. The otter's carrying a concealed dagger, and he'll try to cheat with it, but despite what he thinks about his own ability, he has no idea how to wield more than one weapon at a time. The weasel should defeat him easily."

"Ah," Judy said, uncertain. She took a closer look at the field, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Quietly, he began to explain, as the two mammals circled each other warily. "You can't spot the dagger — I haven't yet taught you how to identify hidden weapons — but it's obvious if you know where to look. Now, how do I know what I told you about their skills? Look at how they hold their weapons. While the weasel always keeps his free left paw up and ready, the otter doesn't know what to do with his, and forgets about it. It just hangs there in space. He's clearly unskilled with that paw, and he certainly can't use both at once, while the weasel can if need be. And both of these mammals rely on speed, given their small size — that's why they fight with daggers. Once they close with each other, the otter's disadvantage will decide things swiftly. To be frank, I don't rate his intelligence very highly if he's cheating in such a foolish manner."

Out in the square, the two leapt at each other, a small knife materializing in the otter's left paw. Judy wouldn't have noticed it if Ingvar hadn't told her, and she thought the spectators hadn't either. After a brief clash of steel, the otter was booted to the ground and a dirk was leveled at his throat. The swiftness of the weasel's victory brought mingled cheers and boos from the audience, who apparently hadn't noticed the other's attempt to cheat. The knife was no longer in view.

Removing his blade, the weasel extended a paw to help the otter up, only for it to be rudely batted aside. Pulling himself off the ground, he stalked away malevolently, eyes burning with suppressed rage.

"Ah, well," Ingvar sighed. "Another sore loser. Be careful around mammals like that, Hopps. They don't win graciously, and they can't bear defeat — they'll do anything to take revenge for real or imagined slights."

"But he was the one cheating!" Judy said indignantly. "What right does he have to get upset?"

"Cheaters are always furious when they lose, especially if they know they've been fairly beaten. There's no point trying to reason why. Sometimes they'll even accuse you of cheating, both to get even with you and to try and shift attention away from their own rulebreaking. And confronting a cheater will usually accomplish nothing but earning you an enemy," Ingvar said forcefully. "I know you're probably thinking of complaining about him to the authorities, but trust me — it won't do any good. If the weasel's going to report it, let him. Otherwise, stay out of things that don't concern you."

Though his words were harsh, his tone wasn't unkind, and Judy could tell that he meant well. Still, her blood sizzled at the thought of letting a cheater like that walk away. Someone could have been seriously hurt! At least he hadn't won. _That_ would have been really intolerable.

The next pair up was a coyote and another goat, one armed with a quarterstaff and the other with a cutlass. After a few brief exchanges, a furious bout of whacks resulted in the coyote receiving a shallow cut down the arm, which was sufficient to decide the winner.

"Hang on," Judy said, confused. "Is it to first blood? I thought..."

"Different tourneys have different rules," Ingvar explained, never taking his eyes off the next set of contestants. "Some go to first touch, some to first blood or a knockout, others use a points system. A few — very few — go to the death."

Seeing her shocked expression, he added, "But those are extremely rare, and heavily discouraged. The king shuts those down whenever they get to be a problem. Unfortunately, a lot of mammals just have an appetite for blood. And not all of those are predators."

Seemingly unwilling to carry the conversation further, he lapsed once more into silent observation. Deciding not to pursue the subject, Judy wondered what he was looking at in the next pair of fighters. She followed his gaze and tried to see what he saw.

As the pool of fighters decreased, their size grew, gradually working up to the heftiest warriors. The initial group had been small, however, and already the last two were up. A large boar with a war hammer was squaring off against a puma, who carried two javelins. Narrowing her eyes, Judy attempted to work out the likely winner, evaluating each mammal's strengths and weaknesses the way she'd been learning.

The boar was shorter and stockier than his enemy, as well as lacking in a cat's natural agility and reflexes. The heavy hammer he carried would tire out a lesser mammal, but he looked as though he could swing it for hours, endowed as he was with rippling muscles. Judy thought he would act defensively. Hammers were often unwieldy, and against the big cat's speed, he would be forced to use every resource to defend himself. Most likely he would play for time, conserving his strength, waiting for the right moment to strike.

The puma was much more lightly built. She wouldn't try throwing her javelins — that could risk doing serious injury to her opponent, and she might not be able to get them back quickly once thrown. And they wouldn't be very effective against a hammer like that. Any direct block would probably turn them into splinters. She'd use her speed to circle him, looking for an opening. If she could draw blood, the contest would be over quickly.

As she watched, the boar stood his ground stolidly, while the puma sidestepped around him. Both held themselves with an air of affected ease, as if they were completely unconcerned by any possiblity of defeat. Judy could tell they were experienced.

In a blur, the puma attacked, striking high and sweeping left simultaneously. The boar sidestepped the high strike and blocked the other with his hammer, bringing it up just in time to parry another swing, and then two more, and then...

Judy was awestruck. The puma seemed to be everywhere — feinting, jabbing, and slashing like a whirlwind — but the boar was always there to meet her, weathering the storm of blows. His hammer spun and bobbed as he calmly blocked or deflected each attack. He moved only when absolutely necessary, dodging with a grace she would never have believed for such a large mammal. Clearly, both of these two were far more skilled than those who had come before.

After what felt like only a few seconds to Judy, the puma slipped in close to land a stinging strike on one wrist with a javelin, before twisting away out of reach. The boar only narrowly kept hold of his hammer. An instant later, a sharp whack to the back of one knee sent him down, still upright but struggling to withstand the renewed onslaught of attacks. His brow was furrowed with effort. Sweat ran down his arms, and he was obviously tiring.

Judy watched with bated breath, unblinking. She didn't want to miss a moment. The other pairs had been interesting, but this was a fantastic display of ability, and whoever won, it had been well worth her time. The question was, who _would _win? Around her, the betting reached a fever pitch as mammals yelled out enormous sums on one or the other.

The cat hadn't let up one bit, determined to keep her enemy down. Yet Judy thought she could almost detect a pattern in her attack, perhaps brought on by overconfidence. And where there was a pattern, there was a way to exploit it.

Without warning, the boar launched explosively upwards, avoiding the javelins and sending the puma flying backwards with a shoulder to the chest. She rolled and came up again, weapons clutched defensively, but he knocked them out of her paws with a single powerful swing. He wasn't even winded!, Judy realized. He must have been faking his exhaustion! That was the cunning of a true adept.

The crowd exploded, cheering wildly for the unanticipated comeback. Pouches of gold and silver changed hands, with complaints from the unlucky and with glee from those who had suddenly become richer. Out on the field, the boar graciously helped his opponent up, and they left together to riotous applause, apparently complimenting each other on their performance. The referee began bringing out the awards for each class.

"Take note, Hopps," Ingvar said suddenly. "That right there is one of the most important things you can ever learn."

"Oh, I know!" Judy said, bouncing with excitement. "It was incredible! How fast she moved, but he just blocked everything, and —"

"Not the fight, Hopps," Ingvar cut her off. "What happened afterwards. You can be the greatest warrior in the world — or in your case, the greatest trader in the world — but you will be lonely and despised unless you know one thing: how to win, and lose, with dignity. Those two knew how. That weasel knew how. The otter did not. You may not quite know how yet, Hopps, but you are learning."

"Ah," Judy said. Though his advice was completely applicable, she had been bemused until she remembered that she was still pretending to be a merchant's apprentice. She was glad he'd stopped her before she'd given herself away. "Well... I'll try harder at it, then, sir."

He snorted. "You know, Hopps," he said, "there are some things that neither you nor I can beat into your head. It's time for you to get some practical experience."

"Really?" she gasped. "Oh, thank you!"

"Yes, we may as well start now. It's about time, and books can only teach you so much. The market will be a good opportunity to learn."

On the green, the few winners accepted their prizes and bowed. Judy saw the boar, the goat, and the weasel, representing the large-, mid-,and small-size mammals respectively. Had there been any larger competitors, each other class would have been shifted down, but the arrangement was fairly loose to accomodate such vagaries of circumstance.

As the crowd slowly began shuffling down from the stands, now that the fun was over, Ingvar led the way into the broad avenue filled with stalls. Merchants called out to browsing mammals, offering the best prices to be found anywhere, sir! Produce, textiles, candied sweets and jewelry, all on offer.

"In my profession, it's very useful to know when mammals are lying. Saved my life a time or two. Otherwise you might find yourself fooled by some unscrupulous bandits, hoping for an easy ransom," Ingvar lectured as they made their way through the press. "It's a common ploy. One or two will pretend to be poor travelers seeking aid, or something of that nature. They lie their way into your company, wait until you're asleep, and next thing you know you're tied to a tree in the middle of the woods while the whole troop rummages through your wares," he continued, still keeping up the pretense of innocence. Even without the mercantile add-ons, though, he was still giving her important information.

"And whether you decide to enter the trade or not," he went on, "you still need to know a great deal in order to avoid being taken advantage of. You need to understand how to identify good quality product, counterfeit currency, and potential escape routes, as well as knowing if a mammal has a heavy purse, a light purse, or a concealed weapon, and how willing they are to buy, sell, steal, bribe, or remove the breath of life from your body."

Judy trailed along behind, bubbling with barely-hidden mirth at the way he casually slipped in hints meant only for her. Even if someone had been bothering to pay attention to his words, they probably wouldn't know what merchants' apprentices were really supposed to be learning. And though she would never abandon her dream, the secrecy did get a little depressing at times. It was moments like these that made it more bearable.

They spent the next few hours cruising from stall to stall, observing transactions as Ingvar quietly pointed out the little tics that gave away a mammal's intentions and desires. Though some were peculiar to different species, a great many were common to all, and by the end of it Judy felt almost like the trader she was pretending to be.

* * *

By the time the sun was lowering towards the horizon, the last of the merchants was hastily packing up his wares, and the shops along the main street had begun to close. Ingvar was trekking steadily down the road while Judy happily recounted the events of the day, going over the battles move-by-move.

"...so clearly, he was using the Agrippa defense, which seemed a bit unnecessary to me but what do I know, so she tried countering with Capo Ferro, but then he switched to the _Bonetti_ defense, so even though I saw her throw in some moves from Thibault she just couldn't get through! Really he must have let her get as close as she did, and looking back on it it seems obvious that he was faking, his ripostes were far too clean for him to have been really under pressure — I mean, the rest of them were all right, but that one was just incredible!" she declared after a particularly vivid description of the last fight. Sighing, she dropped her arms to her sides and slowed slightly, thinking of how long it would be until she could compete in something like that herself. Turning her head, she looked up at her companion and asked, "Were _you _ever in any tournaments?"

The old wolf, well-practiced at concealing his emotions, revealed nothing of the memories her question stirred, memories he had done his best to bury a long time ago. With some effort, he replied, "...A few."

"_Really?_" she asked incredulously, unable to hide her amazement. Although there was no doubt he was good enough, and he must have gotten his skills somewhere... With a little imagination she envisioned a younger version of Ingvar, less a few scars and with a darker coat, calmly defeating lions and grizzly bears in the arena. "Did you win many?"

"Some," he admitted grudgingly, avoiding her eye. "But I'm far too old for that now."

Though she didn't say so, for fear he would think she was trying to flatter him, Judy thought he was undoubtably good enough to beat just about anyone. He never deliberately showed off, but from their sparring matches she knew he was some kind of master. After all, she had gotten miles better than when she had started, and yet he was still impossibly better than her. No matter how far she progressed he was always a hundred times as good. But he steadfastly refused to talk about himself or his past, avoiding the subject at all times. This was a rare admission from him.

Lost in thought, Judy almost walked by it before she realized she was at her house. "Oh! Um, I've got to... well, goodbye, I guess," she said, unsure exactly how to leave. She didn't really want to make him walk all the way back to his little hut on his own, but he had already refused numerous offers of a room in their house. "I really learned a lot today!"

"I should hope so," he said dryly. "I'll be quizzing you on it tomorrow, and you ought to be able to tell me exactly what each of them did wrong. Winners as well as losers. So you'd better have been paying attention. Don't be late, Hopps." With that he turned and walked away into the gathering gloom. His form was quickly shrouded by dusk.

Judy closed the door and hurried up to the room she shared with her sisters, hoping her parents wouldn't be around to ambush her with any irritating questions about her day. The tourney, and her brief glimpse into Ingvar's past, had stirred her up quite a bit, and she wanted some time alone — or mostly alone — to think. Cheating, incompetence... otters with fiery eyes and quick-stepping pumas ran through her mind, while cheering audiences threw gold at them. In the distance, the silhouette of a lone wolf watched silently.

The last thought she had before drifting off was that being a warrior was a lot more complicated than she had imagined.

* * *

**AN - Aaaand... there we go. So yeah, probably I won't post anything till August or September maybe. Sorry. If you didn't like this chapter, I promise the next one will be more interesting. There's a bit of a time jump — I'm saying Judy's around thirteenish in this chapter, but there'll be a substantial training montage at the beginning of next chapter that covers... what, a decade? I know it's a lot, but not much happens, and I know everybody wants to see her set off on her quest ASAP. Cause there will be a quest, just so you're aware.**

**Leave a review, tell me what you think — I always love to hear from you guys. Have a nice summer! - [CC]**


	5. Chapter 5

AN** \- AAAHHHH! I'M BACK! Sorry to be gone for so long! But I wrote you this suuuuuuper-big chapter to make up for it. Seriously, it's like twice as big as my average chapters. Hey, also this story got 1k views recently! So that's now my excuse for why it's so long. Like I promised, it's the last Bunnyburrow chapter. After this, Judy will finally be setting out into the world.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

Judy awoke the morning after the tournament feeling she had been given a glimpse into the world of professional heroes, and though it wasn't quite what she had imagined, it promised to be even more interesting.

Dashing through her morning routine, she hurried downstairs for porridge, mixed with a few shriveled blueberries from the last of the summer's stock. Winter was fast approaching. All the crops had been gathered in, all the storehouses had been filled, and anything that couldn't be pickled or preserved had been dried and stored in root cellars. All there was left to do now was gather enough firewood to last through the snows.

Nobody even glanced her way as she dashed through the streets, all the villagers having become accustomed to seeing her hurrying back and forth to her lessons. Not a few were given to lamenting that a female was receiving such advanced instruction — and in a trade, no less! — but the Hopps family had always been fair in their governing of the town, and Judy was known as a well-raised doe, so any grumbles were kept quiet.

Judy leapt up the path to the hut, excitement building within her, not even feeling the chill in the air. She would have nothing to do the whole winter but study and train. By spring, she would be so much better! And maybe next year she could enter a tournament for real...

As she approached, the door flew open, Ingvar standing over the threshold. "Are you ready for today's lesson, Hopps?" he asked, sensing her eagerness.

"Yes!" she said firmly, confident in her ability to face anything he might throw at her.

"Very well, then," he answered, with a tiny smirk. "Let's begin."

So they began.

And they didn't stop, either.

If she had thought the past few months had flown by, the next year went past even more swiftly. During the winter, they spent less time sparring and more time indoors studying, Judy trying to soak up the paltry warmth of Ingvar's tiny fire. Oh, how she envied his thick coat! But he didn't completely let up. He still made her exercise every day, and every so often he would give her a few lessons in "cold-weather combat," as he called it.

"You must be able to endure any weather without pausing, whether scorching heat or freezing cold," he would tell her as she staggered through the driving snow. "Mammals like wolves, yaks, and mountain goats are well-suited to snow and ice. They won't cut you any slack because you lack such an adaptation. On the contrary, your enemies will exploit every advantage they have to defeat you. You must be ready to counter those advantages."

Then she would stumble inside and dry off, before turning to her bookwork. Though candles were expensive, Ingvar always had enough for light, no matter how often or how late he taught. It was a mystery, given his spartan surroundings, but she knew she wouldn't get anywhere by asking.

So the cold season passed — with long lectures on such topics as plate armor versus mail, nine ways to block a mace, and what to do when facing an opponent with horns.

Then springtime came, along with a brief pause in lessons so Judy could help out with the planting, as she had with the harvest. Afterwards, though, Ingvar threw her back outdoors, despite the lingering chill in the air. He seemed to be making up for the lost sparring time by spending most of every day in the training-yard, working her ragged.

"Why should I give you respite?" he demanded whenever she faltered. "Your enemies will give you none. They wil not go easy on you, or allow you to step out of the fight and catch your breath. Be grateful for the rest you receive now. In a battle for your life, there are no breaks." So, forcing herself onward, she would continue.

As Judy grew, her reach extended and her strides lengthened, giving her more options for both defensive and offensive moves. She got stronger, faster, and more agile. Though she noticed her own improvement, she knew she had a long ways to go yet.

That summer, Ingvar expanded their training regimen, adding workouts and stretches to enhance flexibility and reaction time. "Strength and speed are usually the most frequently-focused-on aspects of a mammal's training," he said to her once, "and for good reason. They're the most basic components of any conflict. In addition, one learns many different moves and styles to adapt to the situation at hand. But you can't use a move unless your body is physically capable of completing it. Leaps, dodges, twists, bends — these are all techniques that require an extensive degree of agility."

She would watch dumbfounded as the old wolf folded himself in half at the waist, or raised one leg until it was almost at eye level, or contorted himself into even more bizarre shapes. And, sighing in resignation, she would attempt to do the same.

Eventually, summer faded into fall, and the leaves began to drop once more. Judy helped carry the harvest in. There was the usual harvest festival, complete with entertainments and minstrels, but no tournament. Nobody minded that much — after all, it was far too much of a ruckus to put up with every year — but for Judy, it was more than a little disappointing.

"It was seven years between the last two," she complained to her teacher. "It could be as much as a decade before the next one!"

"Well, then," he replied seriously, "you have plenty of time to prepare."

And so, they continued.

The next year passed much like the one before it — training, bookwork, exercises, bookwork, training... If it hadn't been her lifelong dream, Judy might have tired of the monotony. As it was, though, she had never been happer, despite the exhaustion.

It happened that one afternoon in early winter, Judy was returning from her daily session when a young kit came pelting around the corner and crashed into her, sending them both to the ground.

"Oof!" Judy grunted, the wind knocked out of her. Taking a look at the kit, she realized two things. First, the kit was struggling not to cry. Second... it was Janie!

"Janie! What's the matter?" Judy gasped, sitting up. "Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?"

Janie had made as if to rise at first, stammering apologies, but when she realized who it was, she burst into tears and threw her arms around the older doe. Brow furrowed with worry, Judy held her close and stroked her head, _shhh_ing her gently.

"It - it was - it was those does, they -_ hic! _\- Jade and Jasmine, and Martha and - _ hic!_ \- Fern from town were there too, and-and-and - and they said that - they said -"

At this point, Janie completely broke down, shaking violently as she wept. "Shh, shhh," Judy said, patting her. "Come on, let's go inside. You'll get cold out here."

Carefully, she rose with Janie still in her arms, and hurried through the street to the Hopps home, ignoring the curious looks from passersby.

Inside, she lay Janie down on the bed and wrapped a blanket around her. Gradually, her trembling eased. At last, she drew a long, shuddering sigh, and looked up at Judy warmly. "Thanks," she whispered, wiping away a tear.

"Are you ready to talk about it now?" Judy asked gently. "You don't have to, if you don't want to..."

"No, I think I can now," Janie said shakily. She sniffed. "It's been so long since since we've talked. I mean, I've seen you around a little, but... Is it okay if I talk to you? You probably have things to do, and I'd just be getting in the way — I'm alright now, I can go if you need —"

_"Janie,"_ Judy said firmly. "I want to hear it."

The kit looked down at her feet. "Okay," she said quietly.

_A group of kits is crowded together in a small bedroom, talking earnestly. Through the open door behind them the figures of other mammals — the rest of the household — can be seen moving back and forth in the common room. The small group contains three rabbits, a lamb, and a fawn. All are female. _

_"When I get older, I'm going to be a seamstress. I'll make the most beautiful cloth in town!" says Jade, one of the does. _

_"I'll become a musician, and run away to join a group of traveling players!" another — Jasmine — declares boldly, laughing. "I'll stay up every night, and wake up as late as I want every morning."_

_"I - I'll probably be a midwife," voices the fawn, a little timidly. "They're always in need, and I'd like to devote my life to helping others..."_

_"You're so boring, Fern," says Martha, the lamb. "When I'm all grown up, I'm going to be a merchant's wife. He'll be so rich, he'll buy me fancy dresses from the south, embroidered with pearls, and edged with gold." All the girls sigh at the thought of such luxury. _

_"What about you, Janie?" says Jade. Everyone turns to look at her._

_"I think —" She stops, clears her throat, and continues more loudly. "I want to be a knight, and defend mammals against evil. Like bandits, and criminals. I could beat them up and stop them from doing bad things. Just like — like, uh, King Harthur and his fellowship of justice! Or whatever."_

_She trails off, extremely conscious of the eyes on her. The lamb laughs."You, a knight?" she asks, the sweetness in her tone hardly even hiding her contempt. "I bet you couldn't even lift one of those swords, let alone fight with one. And who would ever take you seriously? Imagine, a tiny thing like you covered in armor, waving around a big kitchen knife... You'd cut your own ears off by accident!"_

_She laughs, and the rest follow suit. Only Fern appears embarrassed, keeping her mouth shut and eyes downcast. Janie's face burns, going bright red. _

_"Just imagine!" the lamb gasps out between breaths of laughter, "a little earless bunny trying to take on a bunch of bandits! And the biggest one would just pick you up in one paw, and – and –"_

_Unable to continue, she dissolves into a fit of shrieking giggles. Janie's eyes start to feel hot and wet, but she doesn't dare move to wipe the moisture away. It would only be seen as weakness._

_Though the others continue to enjoy themselves at the rabbit's expense, the lamb's face abruptly falls still, and she leans in. "To think that you could ever be a hero," she spits, eyes filled with loathing. "It's pathetic." _

_Janie has shrunk back as far as she can, withering under words like knives, laced with venom. All at once it's too much. She leaps up and sprints out of the house, tears welling up. Still she pretends not to notice. She refuses to allow anyone the victory of seeing her cry._

"Oh, Janie," Judy says helplessly, pulling her close. The younger doe managed to avoid breaking down, but it was obvious that every word of the lamb's vicious speech had cut her to the bone.

"And to think," said the elder, feeling the fury well up within her, "that those others just sat by and didn't even speak up! How could they? I bet they're all Martha's cronies. I'm surprised — I know Fern a little, and I thought she was better than that — "

"Oh, no!" cried out Janie. "Don't think that about her. She usually never goes around with the rest of them, but Martha bullied her into letting us hang out at her house, because she wanted to play with Fern's new doll. And she's too afraid to say anything. They all are. Martha never forgets an insult, and she always gets you back sooner or later, so nobody will stand up to her."

"But that's awful!" Judy exclaimed, horrified. "How did I not know — " But she fell silent. How would she know, when she had spent almost every day for the past two years with Ingvar? She had fallen out of touch with the pulse of the village.

"I can see that if nobody else is willing to do something, I'll have to take care of this myself," Judy said grimly.

"No, you can't!" shouted Janie. Judy was dumbfounded.

"Look," her sister said, "if you confront Martha about this, she'll know I told you. She might act sorry, but she'll never forgive me for tattling. Even if it takes her years and years, she'll get her revenge. You don't know her like I do." This simple statement seemed to imply a great deal, but Janie was already continuing. "So there isn't anything you can do. I know you want to help, but you'd just make things worse if you tried to defend me. She would me hate me ten times worse than before!"

Sighing, Judy gave in. "Alright... I guess you win. Although I don't like it. Somebody really ought to do something about her."

"Oh, don't worry," Janie said, with a fierce smile. "I plan to."

Taken aback, Judy scrutinized her sister's face, before breaking into a matching grin. "It's about time, then," she said. "But are you sure you're alright? Grownups don't know how much words can hurt. I do." For a second, she slipped back to that afternoon at the market, when Gideon had... But that was years ago.

"I don't care what she said anymore," her sister said resolutely. "She doesn't matter. Someday I'll leave all this behind, and then she'll never be able to bother me again. All I have to do is be strong on the inside and keep going, whatever anyone tells me. Just like you!"

She gazed up at Judy with such admiration that the latter started to get choked up, feeling the weight of love and trust settling on her. It was more pressure to succeed, more worry bearing her down... but it also helped bear her up.

"Thank you," she said shakily, wiping one eye. "I really appreciate that." They held each other there for a moment more, quietly. To both of them, the room felt like love.

* * *

In the months following their talk, Judy was even more determined to do her utmost. Remembering Ingvar's warning, she deliberately held back from pushing herself past her limits, but she went to her lessons every day filled with a renewed fire. After all, she wasn't just doing this for herself. She was doing it for Janie, for her parents, for everyone who felt defenseless and alone. She was doing it for all the mammals who looked out at the world and wondered why they weren't being represented, who wondered why there _weren't _any rabbits or otters or foxes in the guilds — the army — the government. Or for that matter, why there were so few females in any of those, too!

Suffice it to say, that she was in it for everybody who couldn't be in it themselves.

Ingvar, of course, expressed absolutely zero interest in her ideals or motivations, and refused to provide any guidance in that area. "You have to find what drives you on your own," he said in a rare moment of openness. "For me to interfere with your spiritual growth so heavy-handedly would be completely out of the question. Now, show me that block a few more times. You're still leaving yourself unguarded on your left side."

As the months slid into years, Judy grew more and more - both in size and in skill. She recognized this in herself, and was justly proud. But she began to grow frustrated. How much longer would she have to train, suffering an endless series of defeats? She had gotten better - she knew she had - but still, she was no closer to beating Ingvar. Not to mention that she still had no idea when the next tournament would be held. She could easily be twenty years old by the time it came around again!

Still, she could complain all she wanted, but that didn't change the fact that on the inside she really did want to continue. She had been granted a once-in-a-lifetime chance to do what she loved. If she pulled through her apprenticeship, she could become a real adventurer. She could travel to new lands, see the world... but most importantly, she could help mammals who needed it.

"After all," she told herself often, "if this was easy, I wouldn't be getting anything worthwhile out of it. Hard work is the only way to achieve things that are really important. _Especially_ when it comes to being a hero. I bet Ingvar went through even more difficult training than this, although it's hard to imagine..." Then, shaking herself mentally, she would pull her mind back to the task at hand.

Hard as it was for her to see, though, time really was passing. Equally hard for her to see was her true level of skill. Though she knew she'd gotten better, her only point of comparison was her teacher, who seemed always to be ten steps ahead of her. In point of fact, though, she had advanced to a degree almost unheard of for a mammal of her years. Add to this the fact that she was not only a female, but a _rabbit_... and you have the stuff of legend.

One autumn day, then — roughly eight years after Judy had begun her secret life — master and apprentice were sparring once more; he with a longsword and she with a pair of cutlasses. Though it was an odd match, they had been at it for nearly a quarter of an hour, which felt a thousand times longer in the heightened awareness of combat. Yet both fighters sensed their bout would soon be drawing to a close. And when one mammal had never beaten the other in eight years, a great deal rode on the outcome.

_She ducked under his lunge, bringing one blade up to let his sword's sudden change of direction glance away, while her other sped towards his stomach. He swayed to the side, putting his weight on one paw as he pulled back from the extension._

All those years of training had had their effect. Judy had finally reached the point where she could equal her teacher in terms of stamina, and her youthful body was better able to weather the shocks of battle than his, no matter how highly trained it was. In terms of skill, he had the edge, but she had been able to hold on long enough to start turning the tables. After all, he had taught her just about everything he knew, and his age was no longer such a benefit.

_Rotating his wrist, he spun the blade down to deflect her jab, then deftly parried the other cutlass as he moved in to attack. Stepping back, she caught his steel between her two short swords, held up in an X, then passed one sword to her other paw and performed a quick evasive pawspring sideways._

Their blades — kept unsharpened for practice, but just as heavy as the real things — clanged against each other as the two feinted, parried, lunged and dodged at incredible speeds. Even to an observer, however, it would have been evident that they were slowing, the old wolf just a fraction more than his student.

_Coming up, she tossed one blade into her free paw, then blocked an overhead strike from behind. Turning, she hopped over a low swing and sliced down at his arm, which he drew back, whirling around and coming at her with a lightning-fast sweep. She deflected it upwards and threw in a lunge, which he just barely dodged._

Though he had often faked exhaustion in the past, invariably to success, Judy was wise to it now. She could tell that beneath the front, he really was tiring. Every parry came an eyeblink later than the last, and every twist a hair closer to her blade. Grimly, she forged on through the sweat stinging her eyes, knowing the slightest mistake could still spell defeat.

_Pressing the advantage, she pushed him back, getting inside his reach and forcing him to retreat. He managed to get enough space for another overhead chop, so strong that she had to use both cutlasses to block. Gritting her teeth, she stared him down through the space betwen their blades._

She wouldn't allow herself to think of the outcome. In her mind, there was only room for the present, and trying to predict the result would slow her down. She had to keep her entire body concentrated on the duel.

_Just as she expected, he pulled his sword away swiftly, hoping to unbalance her. Instead she went in to attack, surprising him and catching him off guard._

This was it — Judy could feel it. Her whole being was narrowed into a single, razor-thin thought — to win.

_As he stumbled back, tired and harried, she gathered all of her strength and leapt into the air._

A surge of energy rushed through her.

_Tumbling, she reoriented herself and landed behind him._

No time left to think.

_He couldn't turn in time._

Just...

_...attack!_

...

_..._

"Well," said Ingvar dryly, her blades still pressed against his throat, "it would appear you have won, Hopps."

Panting, she blinked a few times, clearing the sweat from her eyes. She had done it! She had finally beaten him! Though she wanted to scream for joy, she tamped down on her emotions. She knew what she had to do.

Lowering her swords, she waited for him to turn towards her. She couldn't read his expression at all — it was even more unfathomable than usual — but it didn't really matter. Slowly, she bowed to him, keeping her eyes trained on the ground. After a long moment, he did the same, and they both rose together.

"Well done, Hopps," her teacher said calmly. "I really must congratulate you."

She eyed him a little warily, unsure if he was being serious, or if there was something else at play. Seeing her face, he laughed. "I can't fault you for being suspicious," he said, "but I'm being honest. Perhaps you thought I would be upset with you, for dethroning me from my undefeated position?" He watched her expression closely, noting her failure to suppress a guilty start, and smirked. "Rest assured, my young trainee, I have suffered enough defeats in my life not to be unduly troubled by another. But I will tell you one thing — this is the first time I have ever been beaten by an apprentice."

Judy stared. Was he telling the truth?

"I do not lie," he assured her. "Not on this point, at least. You really are the first. On no account does this mean your training is completely over — there is still more I can teach you — but it does mean that our time together is at long last drawing to a close."

Drawing to a close... Judy found it hard to believe. She had spent eight years with the old wolf — at nineteen, that was closer than not to half her life. Her attention was yanked back when she heard him begin speaking once more.

"And it could end sooner than you might think," he said slyly. "You see, I happen to know that this year, the fall tournament will be held right here in Bunnyburrow, on the same day as the harvest festival. If any mammals happened to have been secretly training as warriors... this would be a good opportunity for them to reveal themselves, no?"

Eyes wide, Judy tried to process what she was hearing. "But... that's not even a month away! Do you really think I'm ready?"

"Rabbit," Ingvar pronounced, "if you can beat _me_, you are most definitely ready."

* * *

The following weeks were spent polishing up Judy's moves, as Ingvar advised her on what she was likely to expect from other fighters, and gave her all the best nuggets of wisdom he'd gathered over his lifetime of experience. But in truth, there was only so much left to teach, and only so much time left to teach it. At last, the day before the tournament, Ingvar said to her, "I have prepared you as much as I am able. You will either win, or you will not. All that I can do now is tell you something I rarely tell my students — that I am proud of you." They shook paws, Judy not trying to hide the wetness in her eyes, and she left to make her final preparations.

The next morning Judy rose early, having had difficulty sleeping. Knowing she'd need it later, she had forced herself to get as much rest as she could, but her mind was just too busy. She had had an oddly familiar dream — something to do with a mammal she was going to meet somewhere — but it had faded quickly upon awakening. She spent half an hour stretching outside, careful to remain discreet, then threw on a long black cloak. Taking a brief shortcut through the woods, she came out onto the road and reentered town as an ordinary traveler. Though she drew a few curious glances, nobody would suspect her to be a daughter of the local lord.

Already the place was doing a brisk business. With the harvest in, there were plenty of goods to go around, and an accompanying flow of coins. Judy's goal, however, had nothing to do with trading. Quickly she made her way to the town square, where a tall mink was taking down entrants for the tournament. Judy waited nervously behind a large ram and a slightly smaller badger, both of whom outweighed her several times over, and tried desperately to quash the butterflies jumping up and down in her stomach.

At last she was up. "Name?" the mink inquired disinterestedly, flourishing his quill. "Swiftpaw," Judy said in the deepest voice she could make, tugging her cowl down even lower over her face. She could see nothing above the level of the mink's boots.

"Hmm," she heard him say. "Not the most original appellation, I suppose, but perfectly serviceable. Entry fee?"

Judy withdrew a small pouch from her robe and handed it to the taller mammal, who counted it out quickly before tossing it into a chest at his feet. "Very well, all in order," he said, already shifting his attention away. "Next!"

Heart pounding, Judy turned away, feeling as though every eye in the square was on her. Any moment now, the mink would call her back, tear off her hood, and expose her. She would be disowned, disgraced, humiliated without even a chance to prove herself. Her parents would never so much as let her leave the house again.

Yet despite her fears, Judy made it into a back alley unnoticed, where she tore off her cloak and stuffed it into an empty barrel nearby. Hurriedly she left the back way, making sure nobody was around, and went back into the festival without incident.

The next few hours passed in a blur. Judy was a bundle of nerves, constantly expecting someone to approach her and reveal her plan just before she had a chance to put it into action. At last, though, the time was drawing near. The tournament was due to start at noon. Ten minutes before, Judy donned her cloak and snuck onto the green where the fighters were waiting.

This tournament was noticeably fancier than the last one, although that could have just been her memory acting up. Judy hoped so. The stress was bad enough without the added pressure of a larger crowd. Yet it looked like her prayers were not to be answered.

Instead of benches, a wooden framework had been constructed, one which could seat the entire village twice over. Even that wasn't enough room — the poorest stood around the edges of the field to watch, unable to afford a seat. And...

_Sweet cheese and crackers_, Judy thought to herself in horror. Her parents were sitting in the center of the stands, in the most prestigious box, set above the rest. Sitting with them were Bunnyburrow's wealthiest and most influential citizens, and at her father's right paw, a stoat dressed in the regalia of —

_"The crown!?" _Judy gasped, unable to contain her incredulity, ignoring curious looks from a few other warriors. Yes, the stoat with the glossy coat was wearing the king's livery and sigils. What on earth could he be doing here?

Her amazement and unease only grew. The stands were packed, and more mammals were still shuffling in, but apparently the tournament was about to begin anyway. A broad-chested goat that she recognized as her father's herald stepped out onto the field, and the assembly quieted down somewhat as he prepared to speak.

"HEAR YE, HEAR YE, ONE AND ALL!" he bellowed. "Let it be known that this, the latest tournament out of twoscore and five to be held in the barony of Bunnyburrow, is about to commence!" Cheers from the crowd followed. Judy swallowed.

"Rules: A win is decided by disarmament or by forcing your enemy into a fatal position. Drawing blood is allowed, but discouraged, and will not result in a victory. Unlike last year, there will be only one winner," he continued, and Judy felt her stomach turn to lead. "The winners of each round will advance to face each other, and so on until we have a single champion! Winner receives one hundred gold pieces!" Both the spectators and the fighters cheered at this. "But there's something else in store!" He turned to the center of the stands, where Judy's parents and their mysterious guest were sitting.

"The adjustment in this year's rules comes about because in two weeks, to celebrate the most bounteous harvest in decades —" spontaneous applause broke out "— the King himself invites the winners of each regional competition to compete at the grand tournament in the capital!" This news was received with a babble of talk, everyone discussing the possibilities. Judy felt like she was either going to throw up or sprint off the field. The grand tournament? In the capital?

"With that said!" the herald cried out over the noise from the audience. "Let us take but a moment to meet this year's entrants! After all, one of them will be representing you in Zootopia!"

This couldn't be happening, right? Surely this was all a dream. Time seemed to twist. Around her, other mammals stepped out as their names or aliases were called. She scanned her surroundings desperately, looking for some way to get out of this, still careful to keep her hood pulled down.

Then, across the field, she spotted her teacher. Ingvar's gaze was trained on her. She couldn't read his expression, as usual, but still she knew what he was asking.

_Are you going to quit? _his eyes said. _Or are you going to prove yourself?_

He had spent the past eight years training her, molding her. If she bowed out now, all of that would be for naught. She couldn't do that to him. But surely she wasn't good enough for the king's tournament...

Over the roaring in her ears, she heard the herald call out, "SWIFTPAW!"

And suddenly, her mind became clear.

Brushing past those who had yet to be called, she stepped up to the front. She heard laughs coming from the spectators, jeering at her small size. She ignored them.

Pushing away her fears, Judy took a deep breath... and threw back her hood.

Even over the din of the crowd, she heard her mother scream, "JUDY!" It cut through the noise like a razor. All at once the crowd fell to a deathly hush. In the silence, whispers quickly began to be passed back and forth.

"Wasn't she the one who —"

"Wanted to be a hero or something, right! I remember hearing about that —"

"— used to have terrible fights with her parents, but —"

"— thought she could help people. I mean, just —"

"No, really? I heard that —"

"— so _that's _what she was doing with that wolf —"

Above the rising chatter, her father rose, and her mother only a second behind. "I won't allow it!" he shouted, muscles tense. "Under no circumstances will I permit any daughter of mine to take part in such an activity!" He looked down at Judy face filled with some indescribable emotion. "You will get back here right this instant, Judith! I bet it was that fellow Ingvar putting you up to this, wasn't it? I'll have him clapped in irons for this —"

"You will do no such thing!" Judy shouted fiercely. "I'm doing this because I want to! Nobody put me up to it. No, all you ever did was try to hold me back! And you won't take me out of this, either," she added, calming herself. "I'm going to fight in this tournament, and I'm going to win. And there's nothing you can do to stop me," she added savagely.

Her parents, shocked into silence, stared at her as if they'd never seen her before. Well, Judy reflected, they hadn't really, had they? They had only seen the version of her they wanted to see.

Her mother turned to the herald, desperation writ across her features. "She can't compete! Surely we have the authority to remove her?"

"Actually, my lady," a voice interjected. Standing on the sidelines was the mink who had registered Judy, watching the proceedings with an air of affected nonchalance. "I am to be serving as the judge of this competition; I can give you an answer right now. Your daughter is certainly above the minimum age required — sixteen years of age — and she paid her entry fee. And as of the moment, she has broken no rules of play. By all the laws and codicils of this sacred institution, therefore, she remains honor-bound to compete, and not even you can remove her. Not unless she violates one of the regulations." Judy could tell he was trying not to smirk. She felt like smiling herself... until her father spoke again.

"So be it," he said in a voice like stone. Sitting back down, he stared into the distance with an air of grim finality. "Let the tournament begin."

And it began.

Judy wasn't first up, something for which she was extremely grateful. She needed to calm herself before combat. As she stretched, she watched the first two fighters up.

This tournament was clearly being conducted with greater officiousness than the last one she'd attended, going by the mutters of her fellow contestants. Though they all gave her a wide berth, she was easily able to overhear their conversations. It seemed that the participants would be winnowed down through a series of one-on-ones, until their numbers had been halved. Then the winners would pair up again, and so on until there was only one winner. If there was an odd number of mammals, the pairings would continue until everyone had fought the same number of matches, and the winner would be decided by whomever had amassed the greatest amount of victories.

Looking around her, Judy gauged the number of enemies and did some quick math. With a system like that, she might have to beat four or five opponents in order to win. She took a deep breath and continued her stretching, slowing her heartbeat. She could do that. She would have to.

The first match had already ended uneventfully; Judy dismissed the two sheep as no threat. Next up was an enormous ram facing a terrified-looking deer. Judy winced internally, knowing that couldn't end well. Sure enough, the fight was over within seconds, as the deer was swiftly demolished by his enemy's size and strength, ending up on his back.

As the larger mammal walked off the field, Judy eyed his hefty build and bulging muscles, as well as the huge broadsword he carried; it was easily larger than her whole body. _I could take him, _she thought to herself doubtfully, _but I sure hope I don't have to._

Two more pairs went up, and the noise of the crowd grew louder. Judy was taking in as much as she could. So far, none of those she'd observed had exhibited much in the way of talent. In fact, she was feeling almost disappointed. This was a far cry from the combat she'd witnessed last time.

Judy watched a pig and a wolverine take their places, but lost interest once it became clear that neither was very skilled. Only a minute later, however, a shout from the field drew her attention. The pig, weapon on the ground, was furiously gesturing at his enemy, who was looking confused.

"He tried to kill me!" the pig shrieked. "He was coming at me with murder in his eyes! It's not even to first blood, but he was swinging that thing like a demon! He should be thrown out!" The wolverine looked to be trying to defend himself, but he was drowned out by the pig's hysterical cries.

Judy looked to the judge, but the mink appeared to be watching the scene with a lackadaisical curiosity, and clearly wouldn't intervene. The crowd was beginning to take sides, and jeers against both began to grow louder.

Somebody had to stop the matter before it got out of hand, but the other warriors were just standing around watching, and the spectators were clearly enjoying it too much. Her father had the authority to break up the dispute, but Judy heard nothing from the box — she was avoiding looking at him. Standing up, Judy realized she'd have to do something herself.

"HEY, YOU!" she shouted across the green. The pig, who was standing fewer than ten yards away, turned around with a comical expression on his face, obviously surprised to be checked in the midle of his rant. Before he could open his mouth, Judy called out, "If you enter a tournament for _warriors, _you should expect mammals to try and beat you! Or are you the only one who doesn't take it seriously?" His face screwed up and reddened even further, but the crowd cut him off with mocking laughter, launching insults in his direction. He whirled around to the judge, but saw no help there, so he grabbed his sword and stormed off the field furiously.

Judy breathed a sigh of relief. That could have turned out much uglier. She had worried that mammals might resent her for butting in, and she had heard a few jeers aimed her way, but she didn't care as long as she had helped avert serious violence.

A couple more duos took their stands, of which a sleek panther appeared to be the most skilled, but suddenly it was Swiftpaw's — Judy's — turn. She dropped her robe, revealing the light armor beneath. Gifted to her by Ingvar and adjusted to fit, it was made from lacquered ebony panels and crocodile skin, over a short chainmail skirt. She had no idea where he'd gotten it and didn't ask, but she knew that it was far tougher than it looked. Her cutlasses, still sheathed, were belted on at her sides.

The gathered mammals oohed as she walked onto the field. Most had probably never seen gear this exotic. That alone wouldn't make them take her seriously, though. She'd have to prove she was worthy of respect.

Her opponent was a stag around three times her height, leaning insouciantly on a long spear. He grinned as she approached. "Look at that! A little bunny thinks she can take me on by herself. Nice armor, cutie. Did you use your parents' money to buy it?"

She smiled sweetly and said, "Oh, you like this? It's a present from a friend." The herald blew a short trumpet to signal the beginning of the match. Without hesitating, Judy easily dodged the stag's slow swipe and sliced his weapon in two, her razor-sharp swords cutting easily through the stave. His jaw dropped.

"That's the same friend," Judy continued, "who taught me how to do _this._"

Leaping almost straight up in the air, she landed lightly on his antlers. While he was still trying to process her earlier move, she grabbed a tine in each hand and yanked to the left, throwing her whole weight to one side. He staggered, thrown off balance. And before he could regain his equilibrium, Judy swung herself up into a pawstand and over the opposite side of his head, one antler still clutched firmly in her grasp. The sudden shift caught him by surprise. With an indignant shout, he toppled over, only to meet Judy's sword at his throat.

"I do believe I win," she said with an innocent smile. A few long moments of silence followed, as the mammals in the audience tried to make sense of what they'd just seen. Then the judge cleared his throat and called out, "Match goes to... SWIFTPAW!"

Sheathing her cutlasses in a single fluid movement, Judy marched back back to the fighters' side, ignoring the gossip and incredulous looks, and refusing even to glance at her parents. The next pair went up, and the tournament went on.

Judy quelled the little bit of excitement inside her — after all, she'd just won her first real match! — and focused on preparing for the next battle. What had she done wrong? The bit with the antlers had been quite unnecessary, and if he had kept his balance, she'd have been in a tricky situation... So she passed the time, still watching the matches with one eye.

Until the preliminary round ended, and she heard her alias called once more, this time to face a coyote with a wickedly curved sickle. She recalled seeing him earlier and remembered that he was fast, as well as good on his feet.

The signal blew, and her enemy wasted no time, charging at her with his weapon low. Judy blocked easily, sidestepped his next swing, and rapped his wrist smartly with the flat of one blade. The sickle fell out of his paw, and the points of two cutlasses pressed lightly against his stomach through his jerkin. The entire exchange had take only a few seconds.

Rubbing his wrist, the coyote stared at his sickle on the ground, then the swords leveled at his vital organs. "Bested by a bunny..." he said to himself, almost amazed. Shifting his gaze to her face, he told her, "You'd better win this thing, rabbit, or my reputation will be ruined for good."

"I'll do my best," she said, and bowed slightly before walking off. In the stands, she could hear a few bold individuals already placing bets on her.

The semifinal round proceeded apace, and Judy paid more attention to the fighters participating. As before, few showed any real skill, but there were some who could pose a threat. The doe reminded herself not to get cocky. After all, she was still a novice in terms of real experience. Overconfidence was most likely to be her downfall.

The giant ram from earlier spent half a minute pummeling a yelping fishercat before the match was called in his favor, and Judy swallowed at the thought of facing him later on. Unfortunately, it looked like he might make it all the way to the top few, so she might have to...

The last semifinal winner stepped off the green to raucous applause, and it was time for the finals. After the first two rounds, only eight warriors remained. Two more rounds would be enough to bring the number down to two mammals, and then only one would emerge as champion.

The first match began with the panther she'd noticed a while ago, squaring off with a tough-looking black bear. The bear, carrying a mace and a broad buckler, was having trouble keeping up with the panther's ferocious attacks. At last, he grew exhausted, and found a saber at his throat. The panther shouldered his weapon and stalked away smugly, ignoring the loser's half-finished bow.

Next was a wildebeest — a rare sight in the Meadowlands, and not a familiar face to Judy — against a young moose. The latter was clearly inexperienced but still talented, and though the wildebeest put up a good defense, he lost out in the end.

Then Swiftpaw was called. Her enemy this time was a large raccoon, who still would have looked small to just about any other mammal competing. Yet he was still larger than Judy, and he spat dismissively on the ground as he waddled up to her. "Ah, gimme a break," he said, looking her up and down. "I thought I came here for a real fight. Well, a pipsqueak like you won't take up too much of my time, will ya?" He leered as he slowly pulled out two long, curved daggers, then dashed forward.

Judy waited for him to get close, then neatly tripped him up and whacked him on the back of the skull. Flicking his weapons away with the tip of one sword, she bent over and asked, "Gosh, I hope I didn't take up too much of your time, did I?" In fact, she had finished him off even faster than she had the coyote.

As she returned back to her place, the mammals in the audience started raising their bets.

Watching the next fight begin, Judy wondered when anyone would start taking her seriously. _Well_, she thought, _I'll just have to keep beating them until they get the message._

The ram had won, of course, and the panther was up. This fight would decide the last slot for the final four, and she could tell the sleek-furred cat was hungry for it. Stalking in slowly, tail swishing, he attacked in a flurry of swings, steel clashing. After half a minute of intense battle, his enemy's sword went flying, and the match was called.

As the loser slouched off the field, the judge signaled the three other contenders remaining into the center. "Now, inside this pouch," he said, "are each of your names. We only need one mammal to draw, so... Swiftpaw! Since you've been doing so well, why don't you choose your opponent?" Gritting her teeth, Judy shrugged off their curious stares and stepped forward, reaching into the bag. The flat stone she pulled out bore a crude image of a cat's head, scratched on hastily with a claw.

"Interesting," the mink said with a smirk. "Good luck to you both."

_Could have been worse, _she thought. As the other mammals left the field, she extended her paw to shake, but drew it back upon meeting her opponent's icy glare. "I don't need your sentiment," he snarled. "I'll grind you into the dirt!" With that, he pulled back and began to circle her, seemingly deaf to the starting signal. Wary, she moved to mirror him.

Without warning, his blade flickered out and struck at her, darting like a snake. She blocked and parried, getting a feel for his style before he retracted his arm.

"You sure have some nerve, coming here," he said, taunting her. "To think that you could best the greatest warriors in the Meadowlands."

"Not all that great, from what I've seen," she replied mockingly, and darted in to meet his attack. Their blades clashed in a whirl of steel. Though he had a significant advantage in height and reach, she was much faster. She leapt and twirled like a storm, striking again and again.

"How — did a little bunny — like you — get so — good?" he panted between blows, pressed back by the violence of her assault. He was amazed — she didn't even seem to be breathing hard!

"Well," she replied contemplatively, staring into the distance while deflecting all his attacks with a single cutlass, "it did take a while." With that, she turned and launched a torrent of strikes, driving him back across the field. Then, ducking easily under his guard, she popped up behind him, wrapped her legs around his chest, and pressed her blades to his throat.

Dumbfounded, he dropped his sword. Judy hopped down and, energized by her win, blew a kiss to the stands. They went wild.

The noise didn't subside as the other two took their places, both similar in stature but hugely different in terms of build. While the moose was lean and gangly, the ram was built like a brick, with muscles apparent even through his thick wool. When the horn blew, he lumbered forward steadily, swinging his immense broadsword up into position. The moose launched a cut from the side, then feinted right and struck up. The larger mammal simply shrugged the blows aside, blocking some with his shaggy forearms. The dense, matted wool absorbed the force of his opponent's strikes, allowing him to focus solely on offense.

For every three swings of the moose's sword, his enemy responded with just one, but each of those was punishing. Attacks like hammerblows took a severe toll on the blocker, and Judy could see the moose tiring.

With a pristine ring that resounded across the field, one final devastating strike shattered the smaller mammal's sword to pieces. The ram had won easily.

The noise from the crowd reached a crescendo as Judy stepped out onto the pitch. At last, the final two warriors were up. Only one coud be the champion, and go on to the capital. Would it be the rebellious young doe, or the oversized bruiser? Outrageous sums were flying back and forth.

The ram turned to watch Judy approach, contempt flickering in his eyes behind lowered brows. "So, I am to face you," he rumbled. "I am Gorvan, of the House Cornutos, strongest in the Meadowlands. I can trace my lineage back five centuries!" The starting horn blew. "Defeating you will win me little honor," he said regretfully, as he began to advance, "but a speck like you will not deter me on my path to glory." His sword hissed through the air, burying itself in the dirt where Judy had been standing moments before. Yanking it out of the ground, he spun faster than a mammal of his size should have been able to, only to meet more emptiness. "Get over here and fight!" he bellowed, twisting back and forth. Try as he might, he struck only the wind of her passage.

Judy was doing everything she could to avoid trading blows with him. Though she was strong for her size, he was in a whole different league. But she knew she couldn't evade forever.

Halting her movement, she feinted left with one cutlass, then went in with a straight slash, while the other came at him from the right. Just as she'd expected, Gorvan blocked the latter with a shaggy forearm and brushed the former aside with a twist of his blade. Then, shifting his shoulders, he brought his weapon down in an overhead strike. Judy dodged, feeling the breeze ruffle her fur as he continued the motion in a curving sweep towards her. She hopped over his swing and cheekily sliced a hank of wool from his blocky forehead. "Ah, that's better," she said, smiling, before ducking away from his retaliatory chop. He grunted angrily.

She was getting a read on his moves now. He overswung a lot, and left himself open, relying on his thick wool to protect him. After all, it was a tournament, so she wouldn't be looking to inflict serious damage. But if she could get him to just...

Bending backwards under his wild swipe, Judy leapt inside his reach. She had a few seconds of essential invulnerability before he stepped back. With both blades, she made a series of quick cuts, then rolled underneath between his thick legs, pulling lightly on the end of his tunic. The cloth fell with a soft _shhhhhhp_, leaving him suddenly nude except for the pieces of his belt.

Looking down, Gorvan let out a startled _baahh, _and hastily went to cover himself. While his arms were occupied, she leaned forward and cut off the tip of one of his horns, before retreating to a safe distance.

His eyes widened. "How _dare _you!" he bellowed, furiously retying his belt. He huffed and snorted as he stood. "I will destroy you!" he yelled, pounding forward. Judy ran to meet him, accelerating swiftly. Just before he would have taken her head off with his sword, she dove and slid across the grass, popping up behind him and turning with a leap that took her back over his head. Hooking her legs over one horn, she swung upside down and pressed her cutlasses to his neck. He stopped dead.

"How... how is this possible?" he stuttered. "I am Gorvan, of House —"

"Of House Corn Toss, I know. Well, it looks like you lost, so I believe the honor and glory go to me." Unhooking her legs, she dropped lightly down and sheathed her swords. "I might feel bad for you, but you were rude. You should be more polite to mammals in the future, no matter how small they are." Turning her back, she moved to walk away.

One ear twitched.

She leapt to the side seconds before a massive hoof slammed down next to her, Gorvan puffing as he rose. "I REFUSE TO BE BESTED BY A LITTLE GIRL!" he screamed, grabbing his sword. "YOU WILL RUE THE DAY YOU —" Just then, the horn blew three powerful blasts, cutting him off. Town guards rushed onto the field, grabbing Gorvan. It took six mammals to drag him away, still cursing.

"AND THE TOURNAMENT GOES TO... SWIFTPAW!" the herald cried out. The crowd roared, delighted by the sight of a contestant being hauled bodily off the field, and even more so by the unlikely winner. Pouches of coins changed hands. Judy took a deep breath, suddenly realizing that it was over. She had beaten the last opponent.

_She had won._

The mink, having left the sidelines, approached with the prize money. "This is yours," he said, half-winking, before backing away. In his place stepped the Crown representative, flanked by two tigers in the uniforms of official royal guards, that were each five or six times taller than him. The crowd gasped. Such exotic mammals were a rare sight in the farmlands.

"Please permit me to offer my congratulations on your victory," he said, bowing. "As well as... this." From his robe, he produced a beautiful scroll tied with a real silk ribbon, and extended it to her. Awestruck, Judy took it. The scroll was creamy paper, scarce and incredibly expensive. She unrolled it, finding only a few lines in elegant cursive script.

Congratulations, warrior! As a reward for your victory,

and to celebrate the continued prosperity of our kingdom, you are hereby invited to

the Grand Tournament,

to be held in the capital city on the twelfth day of Ventis;

the winner of which shall receive ten thousand gold pieces.

Signed: _King Leopold, 9th Ignis_

Staring at the king's signature, reality finally came home to her. She was going to the capital city? To Zootopia?

She looked up, not sure if she should turn down the offer, only to find the stoat pushing a pen and ink at her. "Sign on that line," he said officiously, indicating the place. "Otherwise, they won't accept it when you arrive." Noticing her expression, his face softened. "You're under no obligation to go, of course," he said. "There is no penalty for rejecting the invitation. But, as long as you show up before the tournament begins, you'll get in. So you can take as much time as you need to think about it. And remember how rare this opportunity is — don't make a hasty decision." Bowing once more, he collected his pen and inkwell, before striding away, his guards towering over him.

Judy stood alone, hesitant. As her gaze swept over the audience, rising to leave now that the action was over, her eyes caught her father's face. His stare was fixed on her. His mouth worked, as if struggling to say something, but instead he stood abruptly and turned to go, both of her parents quickly vanishing from sight.

She felt an ache in her heart. She hadn't wanted this, she had wanted them to accept her. Could she leave without resolving their conflict? But her father had shown he would never support her... What would she do now? Just then, a ball of fur cannoned into her, nearly knocking her over. "Oof! Oh... Janie!" The younger doe had her arms around her, sobbing, but she wore a smile on her face. "You did it, Judy! I knew you could do it!"

Judy smiled back. "Thank you for believing in me," she said softly, choking up a little bit. The mammals in the stands were filing out to return to the last of the festival, as the rays of the setting sun cast a reddish-gold cast over everything. Suddenly, a shape looked up before her, blocking out the light. It was her teacher.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" Janie gasped, pulling away. "I'll let you two talk." She dashed away to rejoin the crowd. Judy watched her go, then turned back to Ingvar. "So," she said, unsure of herself. All at once she began to choke up.

"So," he replied gravely, seeming not to notice her watery eyes. "You were taking some unnecessary risks out there, Hopps. If you plan on swinging from any more antlers in the future, you had best take more care."

"I will," she said fiercely, wiping away a tear. "I don't have much experience fighting mammals that large, though. I had to do something unexpected."

"Hmph," he grunted, apparently unsatisfied.

Taking him by surprise, she knelt, head bowed. "I'm going to the capital," she said, voice thick. "I'll... I'll make you proud. I swear it!"

"Ah, Hopps," the old wolf sighed, pulling her up. "I'm already proud."

**AN ****\- OH M GOODNESS IT'S FINALLY DONE! This is a 10,000 word plus chapter. I'm sorry, it just turned out to be that big. Look, I don't control how long the chapters are. They kinda just take off on their own. Next chapter will be like a paragraph of packing, and then out on the road! Or something along those lines. Maybe then, I can _finally _introduce a certain character... *waggles eyebrows* no promises though. **

**Leave a review if you liked it! - [CC]**

**TL;DR — I ran into some existential difficulties with this chapter. So many things around this time period are animal products, but there are obvious problems with that, so I'll explain way more than anybody cares and tell you what's different. You don't need to read this unless you're the sort of person who insists on things actually making sense in a fantasy fanfic about Disney-brand talking anthropomorphic mammals, but if you're that sort of person, you were probably wishing I'd done this a few chapters ago. I can't say too much in case I have to retcon something later, though, so I won't address stuff like this until it becomes relevant.**

**. Leather only comes from reptiles or sharks, so it's not super common except in warmer/coastal climates. **

**. Sheep are the only ones who make and wear woollen garments. They refuse to let anyone else shear them — completely understandable — and keep the entire process secret from non-sheep. If you're really close with a sheep, they might give you something made out of wool to wear, but that's rare. Those who can afford it wear cotton, while those who can't wear garments woven from plant fibers. Plant-based clothing is much more advanced here than at any point in our society, so basically they just wear normal-looking period clothes.**

**. The horn used in the tournament is made out of brass. It comes from the ancient practice of making instruments from the horns/bones of the dead, but stuff like that is made from metal now. **

**. Parchment and vellum don't exist, so paper was developed early but papyrus is still around as a cheaper alternative.**

**. Also, because some mammals like Judy are too small to wear metal armor, wooden armor is a thing****.**

**If you ever catch me mentioning something that contradicts these, please call me out. And feel free to DM me if you have any questions!**


	6. Chapter 6

**AN - I'm back! Sorry, I know it's been a hot minute since the last chapter — this one was a little slow to write cuz of school and stuff. Anyways,**** she's leaving home! About to go out on the road, all alone. Will she be okay?**

Leaves danced on the breeze, rustling and skidding through the treetops. Though they were still mostly green, the colors had begun to change, and fallen acorns littered the geound. The predawn cold was biting: an early promise of winter.

Pulling her cloak securely around herself, Judy checked the ties on her pack one last time, tugging them to make sure they wouldn't come loose. She didn't want to have to fix it on the road.

"All ready?" Janie asked nervously, stamping her hindpaws and shivering. "Why do you have to leave so early? It's chilly..."

"The earlier I leave, the more daylight I have to travel," Judy replied, ruffling the fur on her sister's head. "And I'll need to travel fast if I want to make it there before it gets too cold. Summer ended a week ago. Besides, you could have said goodbye last night."

"But then you would only have Mr. Ingvar to say goodbye before you left, and I would feel bad," Janie protested. "And I won't see you for such a long time..." Her eyes began to well up.

"Hey, hey!" Judy said, pulling her in. She realized she hardly even needed to stoop — they were almost the same height. When had that happened. "Don't cry! You know I'll come back, even if Mom and Dad won't see me." She pushed her emotion down at that reminder of their silent disapproval. She had wondered if they would come to see her off, but the total lack of any message had been answer enough. She hadn't even seen them since the tournament... had it really been only yesterday?

Janie pushed away and straightened up, wiping away the moisture from her cheeks. "Well," she forced out, clearly still on the verge of tears, "it doesn't matter if they won't see you. You'll win that tournament in front of the king himself! Maybe he'll give you a medal or a ribbon or something, covered in gold leaf, that you could wear back. Then Mom and Dad'd have to take you seriously!" She sniffed, calming herself. "Anyways, I'll wait for you until you get back. I have plenty of friends now, ever since I stopped Lacie from bullying the other kits. You remember her, that sheep that I told you about?"

"Oh yes!" Judy exclaimed, the memory rushing back. "That was a while ago, wasn't it. What did you do?"

"Oh, it's not important," her sister said with a mischievous smile. "But I got her to stop being so cruel, and now I have real friends. And, well..." She trailed off, scuffing one paw against the ground, before looking back up. "I don't think I'm going to be a warrior like you anymore. You were a lot younger when you started than I am now, and besides, there won't be anyone around to teach me now that Mr. Ingvar's leaving. And you know our parents'll do everything they can to keep the rest of their kits from doing what you did."

Judy frowned pensively. "You're right. I certainly don't mind — after all, I want you to do what makes you happy — but what do you think you'll do?"

Tentatively, Janie said, "I think I'm going to try and become a merchant, like you were pretending to. Our Uncle Ronnie taught us figures, and I know he's been thinking about retiring in a few years, so he'll need someone to take over his business. I'm sure he'd be willing to give me an apprenticeship even though I'm a doe."

Judy could tell her sister wanted her approval. Saying the wrong thing now could crush her. "It's not something I ever considered for myself," she began slowly, "but if it's something you would enjoy, and something you could be successful in, then I'm happy for you! I don't care about you trying to do exactly what I did — you need to do your own thing."

Janie grinned, clearly delighted. "Thank you, Judy. I wouldn't be able to stand it if you had told me not to. Well... I guess you'd better say goodbye to Mr. Ingvar now, before you lose too much time. I'll see you when you get back." The two siblings hugged tightly, not wanting to let go, before Judy reluctantly pulled away. "I'll leave you two alone," Janie began, stepping back. "I don't want to get in the way. Write to me!" she shouted as she turned and pelted back down the path to the village.

"I will!" Judy called out, and smiled sadly. Who knew how long it would be before they saw each other again?

Behind her, Ingvar cleared his throat. "I'll be leaving as well, of course," he said. "Just after this, down the southern road. I don't think your parents would take too kindly to me staying, after I indoctrinated you into my savage cult."

"Oh, no!" the rabbit exclaimed. "Do they really think that?"

"I have no doubt that similar rumors are already spreading. Gossip moves fast, especially in such a small town. It's best for everyone that I leave before they decide to take action."

Judy looked down. "Well, I knew I'd be saying goodbye," she said, "but it's strange to think that I won't see you when I come back. Maybe it sounds odd... it's just that you've been a part of my life for such a long time. I can't imagine you not being around anymore."

"The most important thing a teacher can do is know when to step aside," Ingvar uttered matter-of-factly. "If I continued instructing you, it would only prevent you from truly learning to strike out on your own, and thus I would have fallen short of my true duty. This is not the last time we will see each other — but it is the last time you will fear our parting."

_Always teaching me something, _Judy thought. She bowed.

He did the same.

And nothing more needed to be said.

* * *

Ingvar went back into his hut and closed the door, shutting out the figure already receding along the road. Atop the table, his bag was packed and waiting. All his things were stowed away, all the hut's secret compartments were emptied, and nothing remained to be done but leave.

Staring at the spartan interior — which still looked almost exactly the same as it had for the past eight years — the old wolf sighed, something he did rarely. "I hope she doesn't think too poorly of me when she finds the truth," he said aloud. "But it's better this way, after all." He shouldered his bag and stepped out.

Inside the hut, all was dark and still. The life that had filled it for so long was finally gone.

* * *

Judy tramped along the forest way, humming a little tune to herself. It had been three days on the road, and after the initial loneliness, she was feeling just fine. The leaves were changing color; the air was finally cool enough to be refreshing after the long summer's heat, and her cloak shielded her from the worst of the cold at night.

She had picked up a nice-looking branch several miles back, and was whittling it as she walked; trimming off the bark and smoothing the handle. It would come in handy for such a long journey. Above her, birds sang. The sun hadn't yet reached its peak, and the air was warm. She was making good time, according to her map, and she could expect to make the capital in another few weeks if all went well.

Not for the first time or the last, Judy wondered what she'd find when she reached the city. It would be big, of course, and probably full of activity. There would be fancy shops and wealthy mammals and all sorts of amazing things. But she knew from her lessons that cities could also be places of poverty, filth, and disease. _I suppose I'll just have to find out when I get there_, she thought.

Her mind turned to something else, something she'd been thinking about on and off the past few days. Recently she'd been having a familiar dream, one she felt she'd had before. She was sitting by a forest stream, somehow moving with it even though she was still sitting on the bank. That was fairly normal for dreams. What was odd was how every time, she had the distinct feeling that she was going to meet someone, some mammal that was important in some way.

Every time, she woke up before she got to them. But she felt like she was getting closer each night. She could see up ahead that the stream was taking her into a secluded glade, where she _knew _that mammal was waiting for her. She wondered, not for the first time, what it meant. Was it simply a fantasy? Something in her future? Could it —

Then something snapped her out of her reverie. From the trees to her right, several birds took off in a whirring of wings, calling loudly. Judy's ears straightened up and her eyes narrowed. The birdsong had stopped. To most mammals, the wind through the trees would have been all they could hear. But to Judy, the rapidly approaching crackle of leaves was obvious.

With a single bound she leapt straight up and over the head of one assailant, rushing at her from the woods to the left. Two more were coming in from the right, and several others had emerged on the road both ahead and behind. Judy growled internally. Did they think she had the time to waste beating them all up?

As she dodged a cougar's swipe and thwacked another wildcat in the head, she admitted to herself that she did have the time. And what was she trying to be a hero for, if not to stop brigands like these?

Judy sheathed her knife — she certainly wouldn't kill them, and she didn't want to spill blood if she could help it — and assumed a defensive stance, staff held horizontally in both paws. It hadn't been meant for fighting, but it was better than nothing. And as if that wasn't bad enough, she wasn't wearing her armor — it was still in her pack.

Already more were coming at her, clutching notched-up swords and crude cudgels. From what she could see, they were all predators. And they were all around twice her height. Well, that was pretty much the usual, honestly.

She knocked the sword out of one's paw, twisting away from a badger's spear thrust, and spun around to drive her hindpaw into another's stomach. He collapsed, the wind knocked out of him. Behind him the others were gathering, but they looked wary of approaching her.

She was still facing four enemies: two wildcats, the badger, and a hyena, looking out of place in the forest. The latter launched a slow overhead strike, which she deflected easily before sending a straight jab into his chest. He went stumbling backwards, off balance. The two wildcats came at her then from both sides, with blows she saw coming from a mile away. Instead of waiting around to be stabbed, she elected to send both felines to the ground with a few quick smacks to the shins and ankles, followed by high kicks to their centers of mass. The badger backed hastily out of her reach.

Judy was now standing in a rouch circle of groaning mammals, most of whom were doing their best to crawl away. One tried to stab her from his prone position, so she kicked his dagger away and whacked him hard on the forearm. He yelped.

"Well," Judy said thoughtfully, "it looks like I beat up most of you guys already." She addressed her remark to those mammals still standing uneasily some distance away from her. There were a fair number — six or seven — but there were almost as many in the dust at the rabbit's feet. Unless they were a lot dumber than they looked, they knew the odds in their favor weren't good.

"You'll pay for that!" shouted a wolf with a hefty club. "Nobody beats on us and gets away with it!" A few others cheered in agreement. Judy mentally revised her opinion of their intelligence.

"Look, I didn't come here to beat on anyone!" Judy protested. "You guys tried to rob me, or worse! You don't get to complain if some mammal tries to defend themselves. I don't want to hurt anybody, so how about you just let me pass and we'll call it even?"

But she could tell they weren't listening. _I really was going to let them go__, _she thought as she readied her branch_. Oh well, I suppose._

* * *

A few minutes later, and Judy was tying the last knocked-out bandit to a large birch tree. Around her, the others were in various states of consciousness, while their weapons had all been bundled and wedged into the fork of a large aspen. "Don't whine so much," Judy chided a cougar good-humoredly. "I didn't hit you hard enough to cause any permanent damage. But one of you'd better tell me where the nearest settlement is, so I can find a place to put you all."

She was met by stony silence. "Come on, now," she coaxed. "Or maybe you'd prefer to wait here for another day or so while I go and look? I doubt any other mammals will show up — this stretch of road is pretty deserted. I think you'd be fine, unless a large enough snake happened to pass by..."

At this, a shudder ran through the group. "It's too cold for snakes," a mammal in the back spoke out suddenly.

"Maybe," Judy said conversationally. "But you know, they like to have a big meal before they go into hiding for the winter. A bobcat or a badger would be just the right size for a large python." Nervous glances followed this remark.

Judy waited a few more moments, drumming her hindpaw impatiently. "What'll it be, boys? A nice cozy gaol, or the belly of a reptile?"

The assembled mammals eyed each other, clearly wavering, before one sighed. "The nearest town is twenty miles away, but there's a monastery half an hour's walk down the road." He stared defensively back at his fellows. "Look, I'd take gaol over being swallowed, alright?"

"Well, I'm glad there's at least one other mammal here with some sense," Judy tossed over her shoulder as she turned away. "I'll be back soon, so don't go anywhere!"

* * *

The walls of the monastery loomed up before her, sheer stone laid by thousands of paws over decades. Though old, they were still far too smooth to climb. Judy thought they could repel an army, if properly defended. At the moment, their only defender was the single goat behind the elephant-sized gate... who nevertheless was exhibiting the tenacity of a soldier in a besieged fortress.

"This monastery is for the pure and virtuous," he was currently informing her through a small porthole in the door, "and females would only serve to corrupt the monks who —"

"I'm not trying to corrupt the monks!" Judy interjected, not for the first time. "I'm here to tell you that —"

"Whatever you're here for, it can wait. The rest of the brothers are still at noon prayer, and they are not to be disturbed by the hysterics of —"

"What's going on here, Brother Mainard?" asked a voice behind the doorkeeper. The goat bleated with alarm. "Brother Allsworth! I thought you were still at prayer." He shut the small window hastily, but Judy could still catch muffled conversation behind it. She huffed impatiently. After a minute, the port reopened, and Brother Mainard's head emerged looking rather cross. "Very well, you may enter," he said, clearly displeased with this turn of events. "But you'd better have a good story."

Judy wasn't sure if he would be able to get the huge gate open, until he swung out a smaller door within it, revealing a rosy pig in a monk's habit that Judy assumed was Brother Allsworth. "Do come in," he said graciously, ushering her through with her stick still in paw. "I wouldn't want to leave a supplicant standing around outside." Brother Mainard made a face at this, but said nothing as he closed the door and settled once more on a low stool behind it. The walls were so thick, the doorway was practically a tunnel, but they quickly emerged into a spacious courtyard, dotted with gardens and small outbuildings. Mammals were moving back and forth, all wearing the same loose brown robes.

As he led the way, Brother Allsworth leaned over to Judy and said, "I do apologize for Brother Mainard. He's still new to monastic life, so he's very passionate about maintaining our seclusion."

"I'm sorry to have to disturb you," Judy said, now slightly regretting her forcefulness with him. "But I didn't want to wait, so —"

"Of course, of course!" the pig said animatedly. "I understand completely. Here, we'll step into my chamber, where we can discuss this more decorously."

The monk's chamber was spartan, with few decorations, but his desk was spilling over with papers. Judy clasped her rough staff uncomfortably before leaning it gingerly against a wall. "Pay no mind to the clutter," he said. "I keep meaning to organize it, but... oh, you know how it is. One thing leads to another, new reports keep coming in, all that. Anyways, tell me: what brings you to our humble abode?"

"Well," Judy said, unsure how to begin, "I ran into some bandits on the road..."

"Gracious!" Brother Allsworth interrupted. "We have been hearing reports of them, but I'm astonished you escaped intact. What happened?"

"Um... well, they tried to ambush me, but they weren't very good, so... long story short, they're all tied up on the side of the road. I didn't know what else to do with them, and I didn't want to leave them to keep attacking mammals on the road. I thought you might be able to keep them here, or maybe you would know what to do..." She trailed off, staring down at the floor. When she raised her head, the pig was staring at her in astonishment.

"You... bested a troop of criminals? All on your own?" Amazement warred with skepticism on his features.

"Yes," she said stoutly, straightening up. If she appeared to doubt herself now, he would think her a fraud and send her away. "You may not believe me, but I did. And I need someone to arrest them, or at least a place to keep them in custody until the local lord can be notified. I won't let them just die in the woods, so if you can't take them in, I'll have to head to the nearest village and let them know. But if I'm turned away there as well, there's nothing I can do but let them go. They may be criminals, but they don't deserve a lingering death out in the cold." She finished her speech abruptly, worried that she had overreached, yet still determined.

Brother Allsworth chewed his lip thoughtfully. "I'd like to believe you, I really would... but even if I did, I wouldn't have the authority to make a decision of this magnitude on my own. I'll have to take you to see the abbot."

"Ah," Judy said. "Is he busy right now, or —"

"For something like this, he can make time," the pig said confidently, rising once more. "If what you say is true, then there's none to waste!" With that, he bustled out of the room. Judy grabbed her stick hastily and followed.

They crossed the large courtyard again, heading for the opposite side of the complex. Looking around, Judy saw monks going about their duties, carrying baskets of food or bundles of tools. Though some didn't speak, others called back and forth, relaying duties or simply making conversation.

"Perhaps you're surprised there's so much talk," Brother Allsworth said over his shoulder as they hurried along. "But our order doesn't require its members to take a vow of silence. Some take it voluntarily, after several years here. A few have never said a word since their arrival! As for me, I enjoy good company too much to silence my own tongue."

Judy grinned. She had to agree — he had been talking almost since she showed up.

They turned into a tall doorway and proceeded down a few cavernous hallways, passing other monks who nodded to Brother Allsworth as they passed, ignoring Judy as though she wasn't there. "Don't worry," her guide said cheerfully. "They don't have anything against you. They're just trying to shield themselves from impure thoughts." Perhaps thankfully, he missed the expression on Judy's face at this statement.

At last they reached an enormous door, with smaller doors cunningly nested inside like the one at the outer gate. Judy had seen such doors rarely in Bunnyburrow, where there were really only two sizes — sheep-sized and rabbit-sized. Brother Allsworth knocked quietly. "Come in," called out a high voice from within.

Stepping inside, Judy's first thought was that the room was empty. Though there was a desk and several chairs of varying sizes, no mammals could be seen within. Looking closer, though, she realized there was a crevice halfway up the wall. Inside it was an elderly mouse, sitting at a tiny desk covered in miniscule papers.

"Abbot Mortimer," the pig began respectfully, "we've received a visitor with an interesting tale, one I believe requires your insight."

"Oh?" the mouse replied, looking up from his documents. "Well then, do tell, Miss..."

"Hopps," she said. "Well, the short version is that there are about a dozen bandits tied to trees half a mile east, and I hoped maybe you could keep them here somewhere? The nearest town is a ways away, apparently, so... I don't like to impose, but there's nothing else I can do with them."

The abbot's visage remained calm but serious, and his dark eyes scrutinized her thoughtfully. "I believe you are telling the truth," he said slowly, "but I would certainly like to know how a mammal such as yourself managed to prevail over a group of outlaws, unarmed and entirely unscathed."

"Well, I wasn't really unarmed," Judy admitted. "I did have this branch with me. And those thugs weren't even very good. I can tell you the whole story if you want — it's a little long if I have to start from the beginning — but do you think you could take them in? Otherwise —"

"We could certainly take them," Abbot Mortimer replied. "We have several empty guesthouses that could be converted to cells, until word could be sent to town. And if they really are so close by, it would be easy to send a group to check the veracity of your claim."

He gestured to Judy's guide. "Brother Allsworth, choose a suitable company to investigate this, and make sure they are well-prepared to bring back a sizeable gang. Give them all the appropriate equipment for this endeavor. While they're away, you shall oversee the conversion of the guest quarters." The pig bowed and left swiftly.

The abbot turned back to Judy, folding his paws. "Now, Miss Hopps, perhaps you would care to share your story? I am quite keen on hearing it."

"Well," she began, "I suppose it all started at the market one day, when I was very young..."

Keeping it brief, she laid out the events that had brought her there — her family's expectations, Ingvar, her training, and the recent tournament. In a little more detail, she described the outlaws she had encountered.

"They sure didn't seem to have any kind of training," she said. "I'd guess they were driven to it by desperation. There's no other reason they'd be out in the woods with winter approaching, is there?"

"Correct," Abbot Mortimer sighed. "Those mammals were all ordinary villagers until recently. Weelwrights, tanners, carters, coopers — contributing members of the community. Then the town council passed a law requiring all mammals working in a trade to have a local guild license. In itself, there's nothing wrong with that, but the licensing fee is twice as much for predators, and the guilds are already prejudiced against them as it is. Some spent all they had applying for a license, only to be rejected."

"But that's not fair at all!" Judy cried out. "How can they justify making predators pay more?"

"Those in power can do whatever they like without justification," Mortimer said wearily. "There are few predators in the guilds, and only one or two I could name on the council. It's the same here as it is most places. Those that could leave did, looking for work elsewhere. Those that couldn't, for whatever reason, were forced to resort to theft or banditry."

The rabbit's face was set and hard. "I wish I'd known more about this when I was back home," she said bitterly. "I never realized how little I knew about what things were like in the real world."

"But that's what life is," the abbot said. "It's the journey from innocence to experience. There's no shame in not knowing something — none of us are born with any knowledge. Shame comes when you have an opportunity to learn something, and cling instead to comforting ignorance."

"Yes... I suppose you're right," she said. "Still, I have to do something. How could I call myself a hero, protector of those in need, if I end up fighting those mammals that need help most?"

"Choose your battles wisely, then," he advised. "Perhaps you're thinking of heading to the village, to speak to the council yourself and remonstrate them for their bias. You could do that. You could stop at every village you pass, and petition their leaders to overturn their restrictions against predators. You could give up the tournament and spend the rest of your life as an activist, agitating for rights and reforms. A worthy cause, to be sure — but is it the way for _you _to truly make a difference?"

She frowned. Before she could answer, there was a series of rapid knocks on the oaken door. "Enter," the abbot called out, and at once Brother Allsworth spilled into the room, panting. "The bandits were found by the road, Abbot, just where Miss Hopps said they'd be! The party returned with well over a dozen ruffians in tow! They're being put into their quarters right now."

"Excellent work, Brother Allsworth!" the abbot said approvingly. "That was speedy indeed. Have they presented any trouble?"

"A little, but nothing we can't handle," said the pig, puffing out his chest. "We recovered their weapons as well — all bundled together and just waiting nearby, easy as you could wish. Well done," he said, bowing to Judy. "You've taken a great trouble off our hooves."

"Oh, it really wasn't that much," Judy said, embarrassed. "And it looks like they were only doing it because they had to."

"Be that as it may," the abbot interjected, "you've done us and them both a considerable service. We'll keep them here, out of the wilderness, and mayhap in time they'll choose to stay. Unlike some sects, we have no objection to predators within our order. So you see, you were able to help them after all."

Judy smiled. "And in thanks," he went on, "is there anything you would like from us? We are not wealthy, but —"

"Oh, no!" she exclaimed. "I couldn't take anything from you, I really couldn't. Um — maybe just few provisions — but I'd better be on my way soon, you know. I don't want to waste daylight."

"Of course," he replied, eyes crinkling. "Have no worries, our larder is well stocked; you may take as much as you need. And do you know — I rather thought you might say something like that."

* * *

That night, Judy lay up in the boughs of an alder, strapped to a thick limb and bundled tight against the chill. "Am I doing the right thing?" she wondered aloud. "Maybe it would be better if I gave up. Maybe I won't do anyone any good this way." She listened intently, but the whisper of the wind just made her ears cold. She tucked them into her cloak and sighed drowsily.

"I suppose, since I've come this far, I can't turn back now... I owe it to Ingvar, at least, to see this thing through." She shut her eyes and pulled the cloak up, drifting off to sleep.

And then she wasn't in a tree. Judy was sitting on the bank of a babbling brook, chuckling as it made its way over mossy stones. Around her, the trees slid sideways. As if a string connected her to the water, she was moving with it, through the forest. If it was in the future, it couldn't be far away — the leaves were still trying to hold onto the last remnants of their green, same as where she was. Golden husks littered the ground. But was that blotch of bright red up ahead simply a maple, or could it be...

Sunlight filtered through the canopy. Judy blinked, then yawned. She growled slightly with frustration. She'd been so close to seeing the mysterious figure! Well, it would have to wait.

Quickly she untied herself, massaging her stiff joints, then slung on her pack and climbed down, ready to begin the day's walk. She stopped, seeing her breath plume white in the air. "First time it's been cold enough," she said quietly to herself. "And it was warm yesterday!" She only had until the 12th of Ventis to get to the city, and it was currently... She reckoned backwards. The proclamation had been signed on the 9th of Ignis, but she hadn't gotten it until the 28th, and this was her fourth day traveling. So she had only ten days to get to the city.

Shaking off her worry, Judy set out, setting a slightly faster pace than yesterday. She couldn't afford to dawdle. She'd never been there before and didn't know what she might meet along the way; any lost time could be disastrous.

She still had her staff. It would have to be enough if any mammal waylaid her again — she didn't feel it was worth it to put on her armor, which wasn't meant to be worn while traveling anyway. And she had seen few travelers on the road. Once she got to the main thoroughfare, though, traffic would certainly increase.

So she spent the rest of that day traveling, moving gradually further east. That night she had the dream again, and she could almost see the stranger — but a low-hanging bough obscured them from view.

The following day began much the same way as the previous one. Her stiff muscles loosened up as she walked, wondering anxiously whether nights of sleeping rough would affect her chances. But as the morning wore on, a strange feeling began to creep over her. She tried to put a name to it, but the closest she could come was a sense of nervous anticipation. _Is it about to happen? _she wondered to herself. _Will I meet that mammal today?_

And all of a sudden, turning a bend in the road, she spied the stream. She stopped still in her tracks.

It was one thing to wonder if she might find it, but another entirely to see it herself. It was the very same brook from her dream!

Slowly, she walked forward, stepping into the woods and off the road. She could always follow the stream back if she got lost. Leaves crackled as she stepped lightly onward. She recognized her surroundings — she had passed through here half-a-dozen times in her sleep.

Her heart beat faster as she emerged into a clearing. There was nobody there, but at one end, a small cottage had been built into a truly massive old oak, one so big that it would have taken fifteen or twenty Judys holding paws to encircle. Wisps of smoke rose from a small brick chimney between a fork at the base of two limbs, while a few small windows were set into the wood at intervals.

As she took another step forward, something suddenly sparked under her paw, and a globule of purplish energy burst up from beneath the leaves. It glooped all over her legs, then dribbled upwards over her upper body. It closed over her arms, shoulders, neck, and most of her face, then solidified, trapping her. Only one forearm, most of her ears, and her nose were exposed. Vainly she struggled to move. What was this? She thanked her lucky stars she could still breathe, but she was completely trapped.

Her ears straightened even further at the faint sound of a door opening, then closing quickly. Pawsteps crackled on the leaves. Her pulse was rapid, both with fear and excitement, and her heartbeat thumped against her ribs. This had to be the mysterious mammal in her dream! But would they take kindly to her being there? Would they be angry, or maybe even attack her? She wouldn't be able to run or defend herself, and she could see nothing but darkness.

The pawsteps came closer. The mammal broke into a run, then slowed as they approached her. "Oh, wonderful," said a male voice from somewhere in front of her. "Well, it's a good thing it didn't cover all of you, pal. Most of these traps aren't meant for a mammal your size." Her ears swiveled as much as they could in a vain attempt to pin down his location, which he apparently found hilarious — she could hear his suppressed laughter. "Sorry, but that's too funny," he said. Judy rolled her eyes unseen. Then around her, her coffin suddenly evaporated in a wisp of smoke, leaving her blinking in the sudden light.

Standing in front of her was a red fox, ears cocked slightly to the side and a look on his face that was somewhere between amused, annoyed and expectant. He was wearing rough peasant's clothes and a dirty apron stained with substances of various colors, some of which appeared to have gotten on his fur as well. In one paw he was clutching a wooden spoon, which he leveled at her. "Now," he said, with a smirk on his muzzle and a glint in his eye, "mind telling me what you were doing sneaking around my house?"

* * *

**AN - And that's it! Our favorite fox is finally here! Gotta be honest, I was so excited for him to show up. Now things can _finally _actually start happening! Probably, right? So... I wanted to write this earlier, but I've been really busy, and the next chapter might be a little while as well. Basically, high school sucks. Anyways, leave a review or whatever if you enjoyed it — I always love reading them. **

**\- [CC]**


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